


At the Beginning

by bucklesomeswashswan



Series: Once Upon a December Series [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Anastasia AU, Captain Swan - Freeform, Captain Swan AU - Freeform, F/M, Sequel, Steampunk Anastasia AU, once upon a december sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 47,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21712990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucklesomeswashswan/pseuds/bucklesomeswashswan
Summary: Emma might have thought her troubles were over after she defeated Gold, the leader of the Industrialists. But not everything is as it seems and Misthaven is in danger. Mysterious new faces and gangs lurk in the shadows as Misthaven struggles to find its footing in the power vacuum left behind when the Industrialists fell. Time is running out to regain control and alliances form and crumble as the betrayals come from those closer and closer to Emma. Will she be able to have the life she always wanted with her family and Killian or will the secrets from the past tear apart everything she thought she knew?
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Series: Once Upon a December Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564978
Comments: 14
Kudos: 28





	1. Never Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Once Upon a December

Ruby wrapped her fingers around the cup of coffee she was nursing, the mug heating her skin to the point of almost being painful. She watched the steam rise, lazily curling into the air. All the voices at the table faded into a hum around her as she let her mind wander, finding a little peace as the others argued around her. These meetings were futile. They were just a charade so everyone here could feel like they were doing something even when nothing was ever decided or changed.

It had been almost a month since she had sent Emma to the coast after Killian. A month of trying to honor her decision to take a position in the royal court and these council meetings. A month surrounded by strangers, each with an ego and inflated sense of importance. A month as the newcomer on the council with no appreciable or discernible skills, the target of sidelong glances. A month alone without her friends.

It had been a hell of a month.

At this point she might have even willingly chosen to face down a hoard of blackguards, or even Gold himself just to have a break from the endless politics. She ached for a little of the adventure of her old life. Sure, it hadn’t been easy, but it least it hadn’t felt like slowly withering and dying. She longed in some deep part of her for the shadows and scuffles of the desolate streets where she had once lived.

“That still doesn’t address the issue of the grain shipments,” one of the men across from her said drawing her attention back to the discussion. She didn’t bother wondering how the topic had shifted from the squalls in the bay to grain. 

“If we cannot get that grain across the border the stores within Misthaven will run empty,” he continued his gray eyebrows bushy and a bit absurd against the lines of his face. “When the top ranking Industrialists fled they raided the warehouses. The people left behind are dependent on our imports.”

“What exactly is stopping the shipments?” another man asked. “There can’t still be blackguard patrols along the border. I heard they had scattered.”

The first man leaned forward his knuckles white on the smooth surface of the table. “It’s not a matter of the blackguards. It’s been a problem with ever changing oversight and regulations at the border,” he said. “Some of shipments get stopped, some get raided, some get through. At best only a fraction reaches the people.”

At the head of the table the Queen nodded, the motion catching Ruby’s attention, she at least seemed to be following this conversation, never showing any signs of fatigue at these endless discussions.

“That fits with the other reports we’ve had,” the Queen said. “Everything is unpredictable in Misthaven. The lack of leadership is becoming a problem.”

The sentence was met with ringing silence. A few people at the table traded loaded glances. Lord Fergus became suddenly very interested in stitching in the cuff of his jacket. Ruby perked up a little watching their reactions carefully. Finally, after weeks of posturing and bluffing, people were showing their hands.

So the Queen thought someone needed to take control of Misthaven.

And her tone implied she thought _she_ was ready to take up that mantel once again. But even here, among her most trusted advisors and staunchest supporters, the silence stretched and no one jumped at the opportunity to support that idea.

Maybe it was because they understood the gravity of what that would mean. Or because they all simply liked the illusion of sitting around this table playing at being kings rather than having any interest in actually ruling. Or _maybe_ it had something to do with the way their eyes lit whenever Emma was mentioned, the eager way they talked about how to use her reappearance to their advantage. The hungry way they spoke about her magic, her birthright, her popularity.

Ruby had sat at this table for a month with her head down and her eyes and ears wide open. There was something shifting within the council, an undercurrent beneath the placid surface of their negotiations and bickering. A dark secret she saw flash in the faces around the table. Emma had presented a new answer and opportunity to the stalemate of Misthaven politics. An answer that muddied old loyalties and raised silent questions of succession.

“There are other rumors,” Lord Fergus said at last leading the conversation back from the edge none of them acknowledged. “There is increased activity near the Dark Palace. There are even reports of Black Knights in the enchanted forest.”

Ruby put down her mug at that. The Dark Palace was a myth, the witch who lived there was a story meant to keep children in their beds at night. The Black Knights had long ago rained terror in the borderlands and the deep parts of the forest. It was even said the Blackguards had fashioned themselves after the Black Knights.

The Queen shook her head. “The Dark Palace has been empty for years. My father saw to that.”

Fergus pressed his lips into a thin line. “Rumors are all we have had for years, your Majesty. I see no reason to start questioning them now. There is always a bit of truth in any rumor. We need to be prepared for what this rumor could mean for us. If the dark sorceress-”

The Queen drew herself up a little straighter. “There is no reason to incite fear when we don’t have solid facts. When we have more information we can react accordingly.”

He opened his mouth, but whatever he meant to say in response was lost as the door to the chamber groaned open. Everyone at the table turned as a guard entered the room.

“Her Royal Highness, Princess Emma, has returned,” he announced to the council.

The door opened wider to reveal two figures standing in the doorway. It was Emma and Killian, fresh from their ride from the coast. Ruby’s brow furrowed. She hadn’t known they were returning today. She would have thought Killian would have sent her a letter letting her know.

Emma looked around the room in surprise and seemed embarrassed that they had disrupted an official meeting. She gave her mother a sheepish smile as she stepped into the room.

There was a commotion as the members of the council stood, some bowing, others watching Emma carefully. A few asked how she was, if she had come back to stay this time. Emma looked overwhelmed by the bombardment.

“We’ll pick this up later,” the Queen announced dismissing the meeting then she stood and moved to give Emma a tight hug. Even in the crowded room, it felt like a private moment and Ruby looked past them to where Killian had edged into the room behind Emma.

Killian’s sharp gaze moved to take in the group at the table, marking each face, gauging friend or foe. When his eyes found Ruby they held there, pinning her. At last his expression softened and he gave her a small nod. The sight was so familiar it made her heart clench, and at once she felt herself relax.

She moved, ducking around other advisors and pushing past them to get to where Killian was standing, ignored by everyone in the room.

“Ruby,” he greeted as she reached him. He seemed relieved to see her.

“I ought to kick your ass for trying to run off like that,” Ruby told him, she meant it as a joke but the words came out a bit thin.

He let out a breath, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe tomorrow,” he said.

She rolled her eyes, but a part of her was relieved to hear those words. Their longstanding promise to each other, it meant they would be okay. It was like finding solid ground after a month on shifting sand.

“Maybe tomorrow,” she agreed trying to give him a little shove but he dodged and then surprised her by pulling her into a hug. He was never one to be physically affectionate when a few words or a look would suffice.

“Thank you,” he whispered to her as he held her tightly and she let her arms come up around him gripping him as it all crashed in on her. 

She’d almost lost him. If he had sailed off, if Emma hadn’t stopped him, Ruby might never have seen him again. He was her oldest friend and companion, her closest ally through many dangers. He was a brother to her, her only family, and she was so relieved he was back.

“Ruby!” Emma said excitedly joining them and they broke apart. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be here.”

Ruby turned to her before gesturing to the room around them. “I’ve been attending all the council meetings,” Ruby said. She noticed the calculating look Killian gave her, the question in his eyes..

“Good,” Emma said looking slyly at the council members. “They need someone on the council who has seen what it’s really like in Misthaven. I got the sense that some of them had forgotten. Too long spent here with feather beds and full stomachs.”

Ruby knew what she meant. “The trick is getting them to hear what I’m saying. It’s been an adjustment, learning the subtleties of politics.”

Emma chuckled. “Adjustment. Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. That week I spent here after the ball felt like always being one step behind. At least now maybe we can try to figure out being on the council together.”

Ruby tried to imagine Emma at the table, seated beside the Queen, weighing in on grain shipments and political allies.

“That should make it much more tolerable,” Ruby said. At least now she’d have a friend on the council, someone who didn’t look down their nose at her. And more than that she had a feeling Emma would need someone looking out for her. Someone loyal to _her_ , not just the idea of what she could mean for Misthaven’s future.

“I’m just surprised to see you,” she told them. “You should have told me you were coming back today.”

“We came back because we received word that there’s been unrest,” Killian said.

“On the council or in Misthaven?” Ruby asked with a scoff. Unrest didn’t seem like a strong enough word, not for the scattered reports that rained in or the tension in the council chamber.

“In Misthaven,” Emma replied before frowning. “Why? What’s happening on the council?”

Ruby pursed her lips deciding how much she should tell them. “Not everyone agrees on how to help Misthaven, or what approach to take,” she watched their expressions carefully before adding a little quieter, “I don’t think everyone on the council fully supports your parents.”

Emma’s expression darkened. “My parents are the King and Queen,” the words were steeped in a confidence and power that Ruby had rarely heard from her. “The council wouldn’t be here if they didn’t support them.”

Ruby gave her a tight look. “Still, you’ll need to be careful. You shouldn’t trust everyone here.”

Killian ran a hand over his face. For a second she was afraid he might just grab Emma and run back to wherever they had been hiding from the world and she might lose them again.

Emma looked rightly concerned by her words. She opened her mouth to speak and Ruby wasn’t sure if Emma would heed her warning or argue. But she never got the chance to know because another voice cut in.

“Emma,” the Queen called gesturing her over. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Emma held Ruby’s gaze for a split second before turning to where her mother was standing. She gave Killian a small smile before saying, “Duty calls,” and making her way over to where her mother was standing with Lord Fergus.

Ruby watched as Emma smiled politely as introductions were made. Ruby knew that Lord Fergus was distantly related to the King and therefore Emma’s relative as well. This was a homecoming in many ways for her.

“So when do you get to officially meet the family?” Ruby asked knowing it would ruffle Killian’s feathers.

His expression tightened and he swallowed. “When Emma’s ready. She’s still getting used to the idea of her family, when she’s ready, I’ll be here.”

It wasn’t exactly the response she had expected. A bit more rational, a bit more understanding, a bit less like the reckless boy she had known for years. It made that same part of her that longed for the past ache again. Everything was changing, sliding away from her. It felt like she might be left behind even with Emma and Killian standing right beside her.

She suddenly wanted the old ease and familiarity of their friendship. The way they had been when they were kids, teasing and goading each other. She chose the most impish comment she could think of. “So,” she said giving him an overly innocent look, “did you have a nice time with Emma in Capetown?”

He looked at her cautiously.

“I was beginning to think you’d never come up for air,” she teased. “A month, good lord.”

He rolled his eyes, but she caught the flush at the tips of his ears.

And there it was, a little flash of the old Killian. Pleased, she laughed but didn’t torture him further. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

He hesitated, glancing over at Emma across the room.

But Ruby just took his arm and tugged him along. “She can take care of herself, there’s plenty more family and friends for her to meet. It might take a while.”

He didn’t look totally convinced but he followed her out of the council chamber.

~*~  
The Queen watched Killian leave with Ruby, and she saw the way his eyes lingered on Emma before he left. She saw the affection and protectiveness in that glance. If she had known nothing else about him she would have liked him just because of that.

But over the last few weeks she had learned quite a bit more about Killian Jones. She had heard from the other refugees that Killian Jones was a name whispered in the streets of the capital, more a story than a man. He had lived just outside the tight control of the Industrialists. Someone who had once stood toe to toe with Gold and was not afraid to defy him. As reckless as he was elusive. Most wouldn’t have been able to pick him out on the streets but many would have been able to tell some exaggerated tales of his exploits.

He was a con artist and a thief, a rabble rouser, and he didn’t bow to authority. He was not the sort of person she would describe as an ideal ally. Logically, she knew she shouldn’t trust him considering how much a con artist stood to gain from conning someone like her, or her daughter.

But he had walked away from a sizeable reward once, and he had risked his life to fight Gold and protect Emma. Both were contradictions to what she would have expected. It seemed in this case, as with so many others, there was more to his story than the rumors told.

She marveled once again at the people Emma had met on her long journey home, the obstacles she’d had to conquer. She wondered if she would have had the strength to survive as Emma had if she had been left behind instead?

She watched as Emma smiled and spoke mildly with each new person she was introduced to. A picture of diplomacy, she thought with a flash of pride. She kept catching glimpses of the girl she had once been, a willing pupil of what it meant to be a princess. And yet now there was a grown woman, strong and independent, standing here in place of that young girl she had lost. Sometimes it was hard to reconcile the past with the present.

She knew David was having trouble with it too. She would never forget returning to the townhouse after that eventful ball to find him awake and staring at the fire in their bedroom. The look on his face as he had turned to her, shattered. The way he had sobbed against her asking again and again if they could have known Emma had survived, if they had abandoned her. If there was a way they could have found her all those years. If they had failed their daughter.

But there were other changes too. Emma’s name was a phantom that disappeared as soon as the Queen entered a room. Conversations hushed and long sideways glances. There was an excitement around her daughter, one that hadn’t dimmed when she had chased Killian to the coast. She knew Emma had turned a tide she hadn’t even realized had gone out. She had reinvigorated the dying ember of their power, fanning it into a new flame. She just wondered if Emma was a force to carry them forward or topple them. At times it felt like they were a moment from teetering off the razor edge of their power.

But if there was any hope of returning to Misthaven they needed to ride the wave of Emma’s return. They needed to use and weaponize that momentum. But she didn’t know how far she could push Emma, or at what point would she refuse. And if they pushed Emma too far how many of their supporters would follow her and turn against the King and Queen? It wasn’t a point or question she wanted to reach, so she had to tread lightly.

But now as she watched Emma interact with the council she thought maybe she was more ready to step into her role than she had thought. Maybe there was more hope than she had allowed herself to believe.

~*~   
Ruby gave Killian a cursory tour of the townhouse, showing him the kitchen, sitting room, library, and finally the bedrooms. It was a lot to take in, and honestly he just wanted a warm bath and a good night’s rest. Ruby finished at Emma’s room, and then she left to go tend to some business or other. He watched her go knowing her vague excuse was just that. She was giving him a moment alone and he was thankful for it.

He stepped slowly into the room, like one of the devout stepping into the heavy quiet of an empty church. It almost felt like an invasion of privacy to be here without Emma. But there wasn’t anything really personal that made the room hers, after all she had only stayed here for about a week before leaving for Capetown.

He tried to imagine her in this room, sitting at the chair by the window, sleeping on the plush bed. He tried to imagine her here without him or Ruby, trying to get acquainted with her new life. A life that was so different from her old one. So different from his world. The thought made all his insecurities and doubts slither back out. Looking around he knew he didn’t belong here the way she did. What if it eventually drove them apart or made her hate him? Was it was better for him to let her go so she could become everything she was meant to be?

They were all the same thoughts that had convinced him to leave her behind and go to the coast.

He knew now it had been a moment of weakness to leave. He loved her and he needed her. Even now he wondered how long he would have held to his decision to leave her. It was so much harder to keep running from something than to chase after something you wanted.

He was trailing his fingers along the spines of the books on her shelves when a voice startled him.

“I wasn’t sure where you were hiding.”

He turned to see Emma leaning against the doorframe. The sight made him smile, finally it was just the two of them again. He could almost feel the tension melt off both of them. They didn’t need to pretend or put on a brave face when they were alone.

“I’m not hiding,” he told her.

She gave a speculative tilt of her head. “Okay,” she allowed with a small smirk. “Hope you don’t mind if I _don’t hide_ here with you. I think I need a break from… all that.” She gestured vaguely out the hallway toward the stairs where all the others were.

He wondered how long they would have until her duties pulled her away from him again.

“It all feels so much more real now than it did before,” she said softly.

“Being a princess?” he asked.

She nodded. “With the council, and diplomats, and the guards, it feels like there are so many people around, so many faces watching me. This is my family and my home but I feel so exposed here, so vulnerable and judged. I don’t know how to be this person they want me to be.”

He sat down on the bed and waited until she joined him. “They’re not expecting you to be perfect.”

She let out an exasperated sound. “Tell that to my parents, and Lord Fergus, and Lady who’s-it, and all the rest of them. I think half of them would practically crown me Queen tomorrow. They all look at me with this hopeful expression and I don’t even know what to say. I don’t think I am this person they see when they look at me.”

Killian gently pulled her closer. “They’ll learn who you really are just as I have.”

Emma leaned her head against his shoulder with a small groan. “Is it too late to just run away again?” she muttered into his jacket. “Maybe we can just disappear.”

His eyes fell shut for a moment. The idea of running back to the coast and the sanctuary they had found in each other there was like a siren call. The past month had been something out of a dream, and that made this feel like waking up to a harsh reality.

“You don’t really want to disappear,” he said. She pulled back a little to look at him.

“I’m not sure I even know what I want anymore,” she whispered.

He shook his head pushing back a lock of her hair. “That isn’t true,” he said. “You want to be here with your family, and you want to be accepted by the people that matter to them.”

She gave a half-hearted smile. “Oh, is that all?”

He smirked. “No. You also wanted to sneak away from that crowd because you knew there was someone devilishly handsome waiting for you.”

She laughed. The sound settled beside his heart, a sound he never got tired of.

He leaned forward, his hand finding her cheek as his lips brushed hers. It wasn’t the heated passionate kisses they had pressed into each other’s skin by the shore. It was soft, reassuring, steady. It was quiet in a way they needed after a long day.

Emma drew away making his thumb slide absently down her jaw. She glanced up from his lips to give him a small smile before she pressed her forehead to his. He held her there. This felt like home in a way nothing in his life had before.

Someone knocked on the open door and they both looked up.

“Sorry,” Ruby said seeing she had interrupted. “The King and Queen want to speak with us.”

Killian felt a shadow of anxiety unfurl in his stomach. He glanced at Emma. This was the moment he had been most nervous about. He had no idea what Emma’s parents would make of him. He pulled away from Emma standing up.

Emma rose slower, he could feel her eyes on him. He didn’t meet her eyes, he didn’t want to see any pity or worry there.

“Follow me,” Ruby said and Killian waved Emma ahead of him as Ruby led them back to the sitting room that the council used. The room empty now except for Emma’s parents.

The Queen stood from the armchair she had been sitting in when she saw them. The sight of her and the King standing before the fire was a bit intimidating.

Emma paused glancing between Killian and her parents as if unsure if she should start the conversation. He felt instantly out of place, everyone looking at him. After years spending most of his efforts on not being seen or noticed he bristled under their gazes.

“Killian Jones,” the King said stepping forward, “It’s time we were introduced.”

Killian looked uneasily between the King and Queen. If they already knew who he was there was hardly a need for an introduction. He wondered exactly how much they knew about him. The thought making his stomach clench.

But the King didn’t seemed phased and continued speaking mostly to Emma, “Thank you for responding to my letter, I couldn’t put everything in writing in case it was intercepted. I’m afraid the situation is more dangerous than we have been letting on and we needed you here.”

“What situation?” Emma asked him. “What couldn’t you tell us?”

“It’s about Gold,” the Queen said simply.

Killian glanced at Emma who went pale.

“After we captured him he was sent to Lydgate Island, to the prison there,” the Queen told them before pausing.

“I don’t understand,” Emma said looking between her parents.

“Misthaven is in a precarious position. If Lydgate is going to stand, if we have any hope of keeping Gold locked up and preventing him from escaping to reinstate Industrialist rule, we need a stronger presence in Misthaven.”

“Are you going to send soldiers, or diplomats?” Emma asked. “We don’t have enough time to gather a lot of supporters.”

“That’s the problem, we are almost out of time as it is. We’re sending everyone we have. That includes us,” the King said. “We’re going back.”

There was a heavy silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire. Killian felt his heart sink into his stomach. This was even worse than how he had feared this conversation would go.

“Go back?” Emma asked at last in a small voice.

“It’s our only choice. If we don’t do this now, if Gold returns, there will be nowhere safe for us. Not Glowerhaven, not the Frontlands, no corner of any territory or tiny island out in any ocean from here to the Leviathan Shoals. No realm will hide us. And Gold will stop at nothing until Emma is dead now that he knows how powerful she is.”

Ruby shook her head. “We can’t go back to Misthaven, we just left. We almost died several times, Emma almost died.”

The King and Queen were looking at them as if their minds were made up and no argument, no matter how sound or logical, would sway them. But he had to try.

“It’s too dangerous,” Killian said. “What you’re suggesting is suicide. You have no allies in Misthaven. You have no army. You are going to be walking blindly back into a country you haven’t seen for over a decade.”

Killian saw Emma wrap her arms around herself.

“The council has not idle. We have been collecting intel on Misthaven and we know there are people who are still loyal to us there.”

Killian could have laughed. The people of Misthaven didn’t care who was ruling, not really. They cared about if the streets were safe and if there was food on their table. And if things weren’t improving with change then people would fall back to whatever was familiar. And familiar meant the Industrialists.

“Unless they are very powerful, wealthy, and numerous it won’t matter,” Killian said.

They both fixed him with a disapproving stare, clearly they hadn’t expected this much push back. They had probably thought he would be working harder to get in their good graces. But blind loyalty would only get them all killed.

“We’ve already made arrangements,” the Queen said. “We were only waiting for Emma to return.”

Killian didn’t miss that she hadn’t included him in that statement. They were only tolerating him for Emma.

“Why can’t we just stay here in Glowerhaven?” Emma asked, her tone betraying just the slightest note of desperation. “I feel like I haven’t even had time to get used to all of this. We’re barely a family again. We can’t just leave now.”

“We have to.”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t want to go.”

Emma’s mother reached out to hold her hand. “I wouldn’t push this if I didn’t think it was best.”

Emma pulled back her hand, she was breathing quickly, looking distressed. “Best for who?” she asked darkly before turning and almost running from the room.

Killian watched her go in surprise before turning back to her parents, their dismayed expressions. The room felt much more awkward without Emma there.

“I’ll talk to her,” he said, glad for a reason to escape.

The King stopped him before he could turn to go. “No, I’ll go.”

Killian’s jaw clenched but he nodded. He was her father, and Killian knew Emma adored him. She was smart enough to know a flawed plan when she heard it. He’d leave it up to her. If her parents convinced her to go then he’d go with them. If she wanted to stay here in Glowerhaven, he would stay. A glance at Ruby told him she was thinking the same thing.

~*~

Emma stumbled out of the house almost in a daze. She could feel something roiling in her stomach, heat pulsing through her. She wondered if she’d eaten soured food, but a part of her knew exactly what the feeling was.

Only one thing had made her skin feel like it was too tight for her body, as if something was building within her trying to burst free. _Magic_.

She pushed out the back door of the townhouse and ran into the gardens. She felt a little better without walls surrounding her. Out in the night air she didn’t feel so stifled, the cold air cooling a bit of the fire within her, but still she was afraid her fear and doubt about going back to Misthaven might trigger another of her magical outbursts.

She stopped a hundred yards from the townhouse and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. Finally she felt her heartbeat start to slow a little, the feeling of her magic retreating once again. She tried to imagine a tide slowly receding, moving out of reach. At last it was just a little flutter in her stomach and she let out a breath in relief. She was safe for now.

“Emma,” a voice said and she turned to see that her father had followed her outside. She glanced around looking for Killian, and she was a little surprised when he wasn’t there.

“I can’t talk about this more tonight,” she told him. She had just barely avoided unleashing a wave of her power. She wasn’t sure she could keep it contained under the stress of another argument. She looked down at her palms, the slightest shine on her skin. She wasn’t sure if it was magic or a sheen of sweat catching the moonlight.

“I just wanted to be sure you were okay,” he said.

She glanced over at him, but his expression didn’t hold any signs of a lie. Sometimes it was hard to remember that this was her father, and parents were supposed to comfort their children. She had spent so many years without that.

“I’m not sure,” she said trying to be truthful.

He looked at her before gesturing for her to follow him and he led the way to the back wall of the garden. He sat down on the half wall looking out at the shadowy alley beyond. She sat down beside him the feeling of the cool stones beneath her grounding her.

“I’m sorry this is all so sudden,” he said quietly.

She looked over at him but he was staring down the empty street. She followed his gaze a light mist forming in the air hovering over the bricks.

“I would have stayed here forever, just us as a family, if I thought we would be safe,” he said.

“What if we gave up being royalty? What if we left it behind to just stay here?” Emma asked, a last ditch plea to not lose everything she had gained.

“It’s not that simple. There are some things that you can’t run from, sometimes you have to stand your ground and fight for what is right.”

“We didn’t fight last time,” she said, barely a whisper. Voicing her darkest thoughts. “We ran away. You ran away.”

She couldn’t look at him as she said it. He was silent for a long time.

“You were very young, but we did try to stop the Industrialists. We didn’t realize the threat they were until it was too late. We meant to gather our strength and return.”

“But you never came back. You left everyone there.”

 _You left me there_. The unspoken truth hung heavily in the air.

“We’re going back now. It took longer than we hoped. But you are here now and we are returning stronger than we’ve ever been.”

Emma sighed. She was tired of fighting, she felt like she had been on high alert for far too long. Now they were asking her to walk back into the place that had tormented her. The very idea was exhausting and terrifying.

“It will be okay,” he told her reaching over to hold her hand. If he felt the heat of her skin he didn’t make any sign.

She looked over at him skeptically. “How can you know that?”

He gave her a smile, surprising her.

“See them?” Her father asked pointing down the street. She followed his gaze scanning the stone buildings lining the road until at last she saw a flicker of light, she might have mistaken them for fireflies but as she looked longer at them she realized they were something else. The lights were faint at first but then they shone brighter in blues and whites as clear as crystal.

“What are they?” Emma asked puzzled at the lights hanging in the fog.

“Will-o-the-wisps,” he said.

“Fairies?” She asked remembering the terrifying stories of the dark fey and the tricks they played on people that wandered into their liars.

He shook his head. “Not exactly. Similar but not as devious as fairies. They are said to lead the lost back onto their right path. If you follow them, they will lead you to your destiny.”

Emma felt a sad smile pull at her lips. “Are we lost?” she asked him looking out at the winking lights dancing in the alleyways and twinkling into the distance.

“No, Emma,” he said quietly. “We’re finally getting back on our right path. They’re pointing us home.”

She looked over at him. At his aging face, the years of tough decisions visible there, and she tried to trust in his experience, his wisdom. Maybe he was right and she was being a coward not to accept it. But if this was their destiny, why did it fill her with dread? Why did it feel like something was tearing apart within her?


	2. Life is a Road

Everything began moving quickly after Emma agreed to return to Misthaven. All night the guards worked to pack up the townhouse and prepare for their journey. As the sun rose, shining over the roofs of Glowerhaven the next morning, the final arrangements were being made. Trunks of elegant clothes and all manner of things from her new life as a member of the royal family were stacked in the entrance hall. Everything she might have come to think of as bits of her new home were wiped clean. Packed away and set to follow them by train later when they were safely settled in Misthaven. 

Emma had barely slept, tossing and turning. It seemed like she hadn’t even had a moment to breathe. In the last few weeks she’d escaped out of Misthaven, reunited with her family and defeated Gold, and then raced off to find Killian. She had thought things were about to settle down. Glowerhaven had seemed safe, a place for them to repair broken relationships. A place to rest and recover. Now they were leaving again before she felt healed at all.

Maybe her life was never meant to be stationary and quiet. Maybe things would always feel like they were slipping through her fingers, like she was never able to grasp and hold on to what she wanted. The thought sent a small tendril of cold dread down her spine. The emotion causing her magic, now always just beneath the surface, to flare within her once again. It quickened her breaths and made her hands shake. 

She took a shaking breath to try to steady herself. _Not now_ , she thought closing her eyes in concentration. The last thing she needed was to send a blast of magic through the house. 

She imagined that power within her like a flickering flame or glowing light within her. She took a deep breath to steady herself and work at suppressing that energy, packing it away like everything else. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the twisting in her gut eased and her magic settled. 

“You ready, Your Highness?” one of their guards asked surprising her, Clemens, she thought his name was. Another in a sea of new faces she hadn’t gotten to know yet.

“Yes,” she said when she was sure it was true. The word still came out a bit rough. She reached down to finish buttoning her coat, but Clemens didn’t seem to notice her hesitation and he gave a small nod and led the way out to the courtyard where everyone was saddling their horses.

She refused to closely examine why her magic seemed to be acting up lately. She just had to keep it under control a little longer until she could find a real solution. As long as she didn’t push herself she would be fine.

She approached the large bay gelding waiting for her. He eyed her uneasily with his wide brown eyes, and she gave him a reassuring pat on his neck before swinging up into the saddle. She could stay in control, she had to.

It was a six day ride to Misthaven and their route would take them through the mountains at the northern border. They were hoping by taking the harder road they could avoid any unwanted encounters. Emma wasn’t upset, in fact, she had always loved the stories of the mountains, the trolls and mysterious dangers that lingered there. 

She glanced over to where Killian was waiting for her. He gave her a warm smile and she nudged her horse forward.

“You’ve gotten better at that,” he said.

“Better at what?” she asked. Fear flooded her at the thought that he might have seen her magic flare up. Even now the feeling was still crackling just under her skin. She wondered if he could read it on her as he had often been able to read her emotions and fears with just a look.

“Riding,” he said with a nod to her horse. She relaxed a little, not even Killian seemed to have noticed she was her losing her grip on her power. 

“I learned as a girl,” she told him. “I guess that’s all coming back to me now too.”

The mention of her past and memories made him grow serious.

“This plan feels wrong,” he said softly enough that only she would hear.

They had risked so much to escape, was it a betrayal of everything they had sacrificed to return now? And more than that, now that she had seen some of the world beyond the borders of Misthaven she wasn’t sure wanted to return to its cold streets and desperate people. Was it worth going back to a broken country when there were so many beautiful places they could stay instead? But now she had an obligation to those people, as their princess. Again, the weight of her new life pressed on her.

“Going back doesn’t erase everything that’s happened,” she told him.

“I should hope not,” he said shooting her a smirk. She knew that smirk, that light in his eyes. She’d seen it before when he’d kissed down her skin, the stubble on his jaw scratching at her.

She shook her head biting back a smile. If they hadn’t been on horses she would have found a reason to steal him away to a dark corner. The thought sent a warmth through her, desire curling within her.

Already she missed the serenity of the coast they had left behind. The sunlight sparkling off the crashing waves and the gentle breeze in through the windows of the little cottage they had found to stay in. The sight of Killian early in the morning tangled in the sheets. Lazy afternoons strolling through the village. Cool night air and moonlight on her skin as their bodies moved together matching the rhythm of the waves on the beach under the endless stars. Those days had been free and unhurried. But then the note from her father had arrived urging her to return and she hadn’t hesitated to go back to Glowerhaven. Now she wondered again if that had been a mistake.

The guards at the front of the group urged their horses forward setting a brisk pace. Emma nudged her horse and eased into the rhythm, trusting her muscles to know what to do. The hooves of their party echoed on the cobblestones. A few faces appeared in the windows they passed, watching the procession of guards, lords and ladies in fine fabrics and furs, and lastly groups of refugees as they galloped out of Glowerhaven’s sleepy streets toward the mountains in the distance. Hardly a fearsome conquering army, but still there was a hopeful light in the faces around her, she only prayed it wasn’t a fool’s hope.

It was past midday when they reached the foot of the northern mountains, the road starting to rise and wind up into the ravines and curve around the peaks. Emma was already starting to feel her legs aching, she could only imagine how uncomfortable this saddle would feel in a few days.

They stopped along a trickling spring to give the horses rest and water. Emma looked out at the snow-covered peaks around them and shuddered at the heavy stillness in the air, the ancient feeling of the pines lining the path.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Ruby said coming to stand beside her.

Emma nodded. “I think I came here as a little girl. To the mountains I mean. It all looks almost familiar. I know my family went north sometimes in the summer. I wonder if we ever took this road.”

Ruby gave her a considering look. 

“Your parents are right over there,” she said nodding up the path. “You could be with them, asking them about it, sharing it together.”

Emma’s eyes cut over to her father. He was helping her mother adjust her saddle.

“I know, I should,” Emma said slowly but she made no move to leave. Why did the thought fill her with nerves? They were her family, they were supposed to be a safe haven and love her unconditionally. But there were also so many expectations on her. When she was with them she was inescapably the Princess and at times that was suffocating. 

Ruby caught her eye with an understanding expression. “There’s plenty of time, Emma,” she said gently. 

Emma twisted the ring she wore around her finger, a silver band with a green emerald. It had been her mother’s and it had led her back to her parents after years apart. She wished now for a little of the conviction she had felt when she first put on the ring.

Ruby leaned closer pulling a small silver flask from a pocket in her cloak. “What do you say?” she said with a grin. “It only gets colder the higher up we go.”

“You came prepared,” Emma laughed.

Ruby shrugged uncorked the flask. “Just trying to be a better travel companion this time around,” she said passing the flask.

“Right, because a lack of alcohol was the only thing that went wrong on our last trip,” Emma said dryly taking a sip. She didn’t exactly want to remember the cold snowy nights, lurking blackguards, Gold’s sneering smile when he thought he won.

Ruby nodded. “Admit it though, it might have helped.” She took a large sip her head falling back as she swallowed. 

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Say what you will about Glowerhaven, but they know how to distill whiskey.”

“Much better than Robin’s ale,” Emma said, the words out of her mouth before she fully thought through what she was saying.

Ruby’s smile faded turning wistful as her gaze fell to her fingers around the flask, her thumb rubbing over the engraving.

“Ruby, I-” Emma started.

“It’s true. That ale was awful,” Ruby said cutting her off. Emma could hear the finality in her tone, it was all she was going to say about Robin. 

“We’ll find out what happened to him when we get back,” Emma told her. 

Ruby took another drink. “Perhaps,” she said quietly. “Maybe knowing is worse.”

Emma tried to imagine how many times in the past Ruby had told herself that as she watched the people around her disappear under the rule of the Industrialists. For so many years, knowing what really happened to someone probably had been worse.

“I’m sorry,” Emma said not sure what else to say. Apologizing for everything that had happened, for Robin, and for careless comments.

“Don’t apologize,” Ruby said meeting her eyes. “Just promise to be better.”

Emma felt pinned to the spot. How she could make a promise she had no idea how to keep? Maybe being a princess was inescapable from now on, no matter what, no matter who she was with. The realization made her feel strangely cold and alone.

She barely noticed when they started riding again, lost in thought. Sure, she had been taught some of Misthaven’s history, and she had met a few important people who supported her parents. But she still had no real idea what it meant to rule a kingdom. She wondered if there was a way to know if you were ready, if you were even capable of following that path.

They made camp for the night beside a small lake tucked in the low point between three peaks. The dark water in the lake lapped quietly against the stoney shore. Groups of tents were set up around fires that hissed and sent golden orange sparks floating into the star filled sky. Emma could see her breath in the black night air.

Stew was heated up and passed around the camp. Emma waved off a bowl, her stomach still feeling unsettled.

“You have to eat,” Killian said noticing. “It’s too cold here to skip meals.”

She looked over at him and down to the brown stew in his bowl, chucks of potatoes and meat. She must have grimaced because Killian didn’t push it further but he passed her his roll.

She sat beside him and picked at the roll pulling off tiny pieces, worrying them between her fingers and eating small bites. She was mostly doing it to placate him.

“You okay?” he asked her softly.

She nodded and he was right, the bread seemed to be helping. Already she felt a bit better, her appetite coming back a little. “It’s been a long day,” she told him. 

He pulled her closer against him his arms circling her. She relaxed, leaning back feeling the warmth of him all around her. The fire was slowly burning out in front of them. Others began to settle into their tents for the night.

“Look up, Emma,” Killian whispered into her ear reaching up to point at the glowing sky above the mountains.

Waving ribbons of bright colors, greens and violet, danced above them. Northern lights. Emma stared, mesmerized. She had never seen it in person before. There was something almost sad about their beauty, otherworldly.

“I read a story when I was younger,” Emma told him. “It was about the northern lights and how they came to be. The story said there was a painter who loved a woman. A woman far above his station, a princess, forbidden. Their love doomed before it could start because she lived high in the towers of a grand palace, much too far from his humble studio to send a message or carry out an affair.”

Emma watched the lights as she spoke thinking of such a girl, isolated, set apart from someone who loved her.

“Well this artist was determined to show her the depth of his affection, and so he ventured out into the wilderness. He headed as far north as he could go. Trudging through deep snow, nearly dying from the cold. At the very top of the world, the most northern point, he found a sorceress. He told her his story and his desire, and she took pity on him. She took a shard of ice from the glacier at the end of the world and touched it to one of the brightest stars in the sky that night. She told him this would be a paintbrush for him unlike any other in the world. This brush would paint the sky, color it more beautifully than any sunset or sunrise. But it could only be used in the dark of night, on nights when the air was clear and cold like black ice. A night like tonight. So he took the brush and he used it each night, hoping she would see, that she would know it was for her. He poured so much love into the lights that the northerners called them the Aurora after the princess he loved.”

Killian held her a little tighter. “It’s a nice story.”

Emma turned to look at him, taking in his bemused expression. “What? You know a better story about the lights?”

He shrugged. “It’s not a story exactly, but I met a trader from the north once. When he spoke about the Northern Kingdom he mentioned the lights. He said they were echoes of the magic done by ancient northern sorcerers. That always made some sense to me. The north is a strange place, time is different here. Nights and days linger long past what they are in other parts of the world. The whole kingdom is a thin place where the past bleeds through in bright veins across the darkness.”

Emma looked away, She didn’t want to hear about the kind of magic that lingered long past when it was cast. She wondered if her magic had left scars on the world too. Would anyone years from now look at what she had done and find it beautiful? 

“I think I’ll head in for the night,” she told him abruptly, shifting away. The thought of powerful magic made her stomach clench like a wave of nausea. 

She moved to stand but Killian laced his fingers through hers holding her for a moment.

“Emma?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

She pulled away gently. “I just need rest,” she told him. There was something stirring in her, an uneasiness, a feeling like something was wrong.

He nodded and pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Aye, goodnight, love.”

She met his gaze and saw the naked love within his eyes. She wondered how she had ever mistaken it for anything else. He seemed to find it so easy to express his affection, but even now she felt herself stumble. The words right on the tip of her tongue but she couldn’t get them out. What kind of person couldn’t say ‘I love you,’ especially after they had already said it? Especially when she felt it so completely?

Shame crawled up inside her, adding heat to the already unsteady feeling within her. She needed to be away from everyone, alone, maybe if she could get some sleep she’d feel better. She stood and turned away from him. 

~*~

Killian stood at the edge of the lake and watched the colors slowly fade from the sky. The night quieting around him as his thoughts swirled turbulently. Emma was holding something back, withdrawing from him. Her careful mask was starting to crack under the strain of some fear or secret.

“I thought I was the only one who was having trouble sleeping,” a voice said.

He turned to see the Queen wrapped in a thick cloak coming to stand beside him. It was a sight that he still hadn’t gotten used to. How had his path led him here?

“It’s strange isn’t it?” she said at last. 

“What’s that, Your Majesty?” he murmured. 

“All of this,” she said. “How things have changed.”

Killian glanced over at her pensive expression. She sighed, almost as if she were relieved to finally have someone to talk to about this. 

“Going back to Misthaven,” she clarified. “I’ve heard stories for years. The endless reports and the accounts of the horrors happening in my home. For so long it was so unthinkable that it became abstract. I let myself believe it was more fiction than fact, an exaggeration. But now I’m not sure if I’m ready for the full truth. How can I be ready to see something I love so changed? What if I’m a stranger in my home? I’m already a stranger to my daughter. After everything, how can I be ready for that final blow?”

Killian’s eyes traced the outline of the shadowed mountains against the stars as he listened. He let a silence stretch after she finished speaking. 

“I was there,” he said at last. “I was there as everything crumbled after the revolt. So few made it out like you did. And when the borders closed the world beyond faded. It’s true, Misthaven will be different from how you remember it, so much of the good died and the ugly was allowed to fester. Those years after the revolt brought out the worst in everyone, myself included. I have seen things I don’t want to remember and I have done things I wish I could forget. I lost hope. Everyone who was left behind in Misthaven has a similar story: Emma, Ruby, and so many others. It leaves a mark, a wound that won’t heal all at once. I tried to run from it, but I was always haunted by the past.”

He saw her turn to look at him but he didn’t meet her gaze. It was his turn to say aloud things he had never told anyone.

“I met Emma the night of the revolt. I tried to save her, but I lost her. The guilt from that night, the things I did in the years after, were a weight that kept me trapped there for a long time. When I met Emma again, when she told me her name, it felt like the first time I’d been able to breathe in a decade. I had forged travel documents and emigration papers for dozens of people, but when we crossed the border, Emma beside me on the train, finally it felt like I had helped someone escape. I was wounded and bleeding but for the first time in a decade I felt like I was healing. That guilt had eased just the smallest amount. Each step away from Misthaven brought me back to life and I swore to myself I would never go back.” 

He had meant it too. Finally out from under the shadow of the Industrialists, headed somewhere safer. It had been a shining second chance in a life that had provided so few.

“But here you are,” she said. “Going back.”

He blew out a breath. “Here I am,” he muttered.

Her hand landed on his arm, startling him. Her expression was kind and full of understanding.

“You really love her,” the Queen said.

The corner of his mouth pulled up the smallest amount. “I do. More than I ever meant to.”

“It’s good she has you.”

It wasn’t what he had been expecting to hear. “I’m probably not what you had in mind for Emma’s suitor.”

The Queen gave him a warm smile. “I wouldn’t say that,” she said thoughtfully. “There’s more to a good match than titles or riches. Remember, I married for love.”

He studied her expression but there was no duplicity or lie in her eyes. 

“You understand her. She’s going to need that,” she told him.

He wasn’t sure how take that compliment, but he was saved from finding a response as she adjusted her cloak and took a step away.

“Good night, Killian,” she said. “Get some rest.”

“Good night, Your Majesty.”

He watched as she moved off over to the guard on duty. He heard the murmur of their quiet words before she disappeared into her tent. Killian knew he should do the same and at least attempt to sleep but he stayed frozen in the cold night air for a few minutes longer.

He wondered if this was all futile. If it was a fool’s errand returning to Misthaven and expecting the King and Queen to retake control, expecting anything to change. Love and hope and everything else the royals professed to represent would never create meaningful change in a cruel world. Those things would never be more powerful than the darkness and greed within people. 

It seemed to him to be a nearly impossible mission. And struggles for power meant violence and death that came down hardest on those who stood with the losing side. The royals had already lost once, and their supporters had been systematically murdered after the revolt. Was history about to repeat itself? After everything he had risked to get away he was walking willingly, knowingly, back into a trap that might well destroy them all.

The night felt suddenly colder and he ached for the feeling of Emma beside him. He needed to see her, feel her. He pushed aside the opening of their tent, the moonlight spilling in. He could see Emma inside wrapped in thick blankets nestled in the corner.

“Killian?” Emma mumbled sleepily. 

“Shh,” he breathed kneeling beside her. “I’m here.”

She mumbled something else that he couldn’t make out. Killian felt a small smile tug at his lips. There was nothing he liked more than getting into bed with Emma, even if bed, in this case, meant just a few blankets on the hard ground.

Emma turned over reaching for him as he laid down and burrowed into his shoulder. He wrapped her in his arms.

“When we get back,” he whispered rubbing a thumb over her shoulder, “everything’s going to get really complicated.”

She murmured something in response gripping him just a little tighter.

The Queen had been right, everything was changing. This was all a massive gamble. He had learned years ago that you never gambled with something you couldn’t stand to lose, and now as he took stock of everything he knew there were some things he wasn’t willing to give up, no matter the cost.

~*~

Emma woke suddenly, gasping and sweating. The image of northern lights held in the back of her mind, the remnants of a dream, but in her dream it was rivers of fire across the sky. 

Killian was still sleeping soundly beside her. For a moment she tried to let the rhythm of his breathing lull her back to sleep but she couldn’t relax. Her magic was stirring within her, a pull dragging her farther and farther from rest.

She sat up and closed her eyes as she concentrated on quieting the energy crackling within her. She tried to imagine forcing that power back into a hidden part of herself.

But this time she couldn’t push it back like she had before. With each moment she felt it strengthening, building like storm clouds. It rippled through her, lightning flickering across her skin, and she watched her palms begin to shine and glow.

“No,” she muttered curling her hands into fists, but the light shone through her clenched fingers. A warmth rose in her and she pushed her palms into the cool ground beside the blankets to try to relieve the burning under her skin.

But it didn’t calm her, instead she pulled away in horror to see that her hands had burned through the floor of the tent leaving two charred handprints. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she felt hot tears in her eyes. It felt as if she was catching fire, roaring to an inferno, unchecked, inescapable. She was going to explode. She glanced over at Killian sleeping, completely unaware of the danger he was in. 

She lurched up onto her feet pushing off the blankets afraid she actually might light them aflame if she didn’t get away. She needed to distance herself from Killian and the others if she was going to protect them. 

She ducked out of the tent and charged away from the camp, her bare feet pounded against the frozen ground, but she didn’t feel the cold. Her harsh breath tore from her throat leaving it burning. She pushed herself forward weaving deeper into the forest trying to outrun the wave she felt rising over her. 

At last shaking and unable to stumble another step forward she fell to her knees, her arms tightly hugging her waist trying desperately to hold herself together. 

_Please_ , she pleaded over and over, _please let it stop_. But it was choking her, choking her like desperate sobs. She pushed her hands into the hard ground and willed the force into the earth. She tried to bury it safely deep in the core of the mountains.

And then for once it obeyed, and she watched as if outside of her body as that terrible force escaped from her at last. She screamed as it tore from her, shredding her like hooks dragging along her flesh. Distantly she surrendered to the small voice that said this might kill her. In that moment she almost welcomed it.

The cold air expanded and groaned with the power she unleashed. She felt the earth shudder under her touch, the miles of stone beneath her struggling away from her. Everything around her bursting apart, knocked back by the shockwave. There was a rumble above her as snow shook from the mountains in an avalanche, knocking over trees.

She collapsed to the ground, struggling to catch her breath. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she realized there was nothing left within her to hold the magic back as it started to build again. All her energy and will to fight it sapped away. That small place she had been shoving her power into for weeks was now destroyed. 

She only hoped the others would be safe as her magic shook the mountains, as it ripped her apart and destroyed her.

~*~

Killian woke as the ground shook beneath him. He startled into a sitting position scrambling to get his bearings. Something was attacking them, some force of nature.

He turned to where Emma had been sleeping beside him, but the space was empty.

“Emma?” he said, glancing around the small tent. “Emma!”

He pushed off the blankets moving to grab his boots when he noticed something dark on the tent floor. He paused moving closer.

A muddy handprint on the canvas. No, not muddy, burned. He slowly laid his hand over the impression. 

“Emma,” he murmured, knowing it was hers. She was in trouble.

He grabbed his jacket as he ran from the tent. Already others were moving around the camp looking for the source of the tremor. A few of the guards were pointing at a nearby peak where a white cloud rose into the sky, the sign of an avalanche.

“Emma!” He called again into the commotion anxiously searching for her.

He saw the King emerge from his tent and catch sight of Killian and he seemed to understand at once. “Where is she?” he asked.

Killian shook his head. “I don’t know.”

A force blew through the camp pushing him back a step like a strong wind. He recognized it at once. Emma.

Killian gestured urgently for the King. “Follow me.”

They took off running into the trees toward the sound of screeching birds taking flight. They had only made it a few hundred feet when they came to a clearing recently cleared by some kind of brush fire. Smoke and ash still stirring among the debris. 

He took a few steps over the felled trees. His boot crunched through one of the fallen boughs, the wood giving way and crumbling to ash. Some of the smaller saplings were still smoldering as far as he could see. Soot and ash kicked up with each of his steps. This destruction was unlike anything he had seen before, as if thousands of trees had been hit by lightning at the same time, or the air had suddenly caught fire and charred everything it touched.

“Emma!” the King called just ahead of him rushing forward. 

Killian followed him toward a figure crouched on the ground. She was curled up, seeming so small, her clothes clean and startlingly white against the dirt and ash around her. Her fingers were threaded tightly in her hair pulling at her scalp. She looked like a madwoman in a penny dreadful, swaying and shaking, her nails tearing at herself. His heart nearly broke at the sight.

Her head lifted at their footsteps just enough for her eyes to find her father and slide to him. There was so much fear in her gaze.

A part of him had known it had to have been her magic that did this and still it was impossible.

“Stay back!” she said, the words ground out like gravel. She coughed trying to clear her throat. “I don’t think it’s over,” she whimpered.

The sound of her bald fear and the self-hatred in her tone drove Killian forward. Her father reached out to grab his arm shaking his head.

Killian looked him in the eye before gently shrugging him off.

He walked forward steadily careful not to startle her. He knelt in front of her and gently reached out to touch the spot where her nightgown had fallen to expose her bare shoulder.

“Emma, you’re safe,” he said not flinching as she shivered beneath his touch, her skin burning even in the cold morning air. He suddenly remembered the feel of his mother’s forehead burning with fever. 

“I can’t control it,” she whispered. “You need to stay away from me.”

 _Stay away, Killian, you’ll catch it too_. He shook off the memory. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he told her focusing on green eyes not grey-blue. Emma needed him here in the present.

Emma shook her head. Her eyes begging him to leave. He gripped her tighter holding them both in this moment with one goal, settle her magic.

“I can’t control it,” she said again. And this time it wasn’t a warning, it was a broken confession, a secret she had tried to hide from them all.

He wondered how long this had been building inside of her. How long she had silently battled it alone. How he could have been so blind not to see the cause of her uneasiness the past few days.

“You should have woken me,” he told her gently. 

She shook her head. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

He leaned down just a fraction and waited until she met his eyes. “I’ve seen the power inside of you,” he told her softly. “I’m not afraid.”

“I am,” she whispered.

He could feel tingling like static on her skin as she trembled beneath his touch. That power that had ignited every tree for half a mile was still raging within her. 

“Look at me, Emma,” he murmured. “You can do this.”

“I can’t,” she whispered again and again. 

He could feel electricity in the air around him now, making his hair stand on end. She was rapidly losing control again. The King was backing away from them his eyes wide.

“Emma, you can fight it,” he said firmly, but tears were slipping down her cheeks. He knew she was giving up.

“Go,” she pleaded.

He shook his head, holding her gaze and reached up to cup her cheek in his hand. Her eyes begged him to abandon her, but he was staying with her, together, to whatever end. 

He felt the exact moment her power broke free. The force knocked him back tearing her from his grasp. He hit the ground hard enough to push all the air from his lungs, his head hitting with enough force to make the world fade to black. 

When he blinked his eyes open Emma beside him again her hands fluttering over him.

“Are you alright?” he asked her a little disoriented, his vision just a little too bright. 

She nodded. She seemed calmer now, that frenetic energy of her magic settled, sated. The air around them felt still.

“Is it over?” he asked her.

She nodded again not meeting his eyes. “I think so.”

“Okay,” he said with more confidence than he felt. He took a quick assessment of his limbs and senses, everything seemed to be intact if shaken. He gave her a reassuring smile before cautiously getting to his feet. His legs felt a bit like rubber beneath him but kept him upright. He reached out to pull her up beside him. In truth she was probably steadying him as much as he was helping her.

“David? Emma?” The Queen called entering the clearing and staring at the snapped and burnt trees. “What happened?”

Emma dropped her gaze, staring at the ground as if afraid to see the judgement or fear in her mother’s eyes.

“Magic,” Killian answered wrapping his jacket around Emma. She gave him a tentative smile in thanks.

“How?” the Queen asked. “Were there others? Trolls?” Her eyes darted around looking for other threats.

Emma’s expression darkened, as if embarrassed she had caused an incident akin to a pack of trolls. In all honesty, Killian would have been only impressed and proud if he weren’t so worried about her.

“We need to get back to reassure the others,” the King said. “Emma?”

She nodded. “I’m okay,” she said.

Killian walked beside her helping her over the burning logs mindful of her bare feet.

The guards scurried about them when they returned. Killian saw their shocked faces and he heard the whispers that echoed behind them: sorceress, powerful, dangerous. He pulled Emma along a little quicker.

Killian shouldered open the door to their tent, finally sheltering them from the prying gazes of the camp. She sank onto the blankets her hands covering her face.

He watched her for a moment trying to read if she wanted to be alone, but she gave no indication she even knew he was there.

Slowly he sat beside her, his hand coming to rest on her knee.

She looked up at him, fresh tears in her eyes, her lip trembling. She was again that girl he had met thirteen years ago, the night of the revolt, exhausted and terrified by the magic she had unleashed.

He gathered her hands in his. “It wasn’t your fault,” he told her.

She looked away, her finger tracing over his mechanical hand. Her skin pale against the silver metal. He wondered if she was remembering the revolt too.

“Your hand is cold,” she murmured catching him off guard.

He frowned. “When the air is cold-”

She shook her head slightly, her thumb rubbing over the gears and plates. “The magic, it makes it feel like I’m burning, as if I’m melting from the inside out.” She gripped his fingers tighter. “When I hold your hand, I feel the cold, and it feels real. When I hold onto you I feel grounded. I don’t feel like I’ll lose myself.”

She raised his hand to her lips before holding it to her heart. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way it never bothered her. Something he kept hidden from most people and somehow she accepted all of him. Somehow she knew it was exactly what he needed.

He leaned forward his other hand on her neck and kissed her temple, determined to be what she needed too. She was watching him with an unreadable expression. He kissed the tears from her cheeks.

“Better?” he asked her softly.

“It’s like a buzzing feeling now, keeping me on edge.”

“Where?” 

She lifted her free hand to the side of her neck, just beside the pulse point. He moved closer and she bent slightly to give him better access. He hesitated just before his lips touched her skin, the smell of morning dew and ash on her skin. She shivered at his breath and he pressed a kiss to the spot.

“Here,” she breathed pointing at the hollow above her collar bone.

When he leaned forward she moved, falling back onto the blankets and pulling him with her by their still interlocked hands. He braced himself over her, meeting her eyes for a second before bending down his teeth grazing her, nipping at the bone beneath the smooth skin.

“Yes,” she gasped. “That helps.”

He pulled back his eyes moving over her face. Her eyes were closed but she was breathing quickly, her heart pounding against him. He couldn’t comprehend the power that lived within her but he knew the desperation that came with feeling broken. The need to feel controlled, contained, to be reminded of your physical body when your mind felt lost.

He pushed their interlaced hands pushed up over her head holding her in place as he let more of his weight trap her beneath him. 

He pulled back his mechanical hand letting it run slowly down her wrists, down the length of her arm. She shifted beneath him her head falling back, her eyes closing on a breathy exhale.

He leaned forward following his hand first with a gentle bite on her wrist, at the thin skin above her veins, then a gentle press of his lips. He moved to her elbow, her bicep, her shoulder. Each spot getting the same treatment, cold metal, the sharp sting of teeth, and the a soft kiss. Warring sensations, meant to spark her nerves. To help her relearn the borders of herself. The edge of pain and pleasure.

“Killian,” she pleaded as he unbuttoned her night gown. He silenced her with a cold finger to her lips. Her eyes burned into his with expectation. He pulled her bottom lip between his teeth and kissed her deeply.

He leaned down pressing her deeper into the blankets, pining her in place.

His knuckles traced down from the hollow of her throat to her navel. There were so many paths he meant to trace upon her until she felt whole again.

Killian woke some time later, the sun starting to climb higher in the sky. He glanced over at Emma sleeping soundly beside him, at peace for the first time since they left the coast. 

He left her to rest and went to check on the rest of the camp. He could only imagine the rumors that must be running wild about what Emma had done.

The Queen was standing at the lake’s edge across the camp. She looked up as he made his way to her.

Her eyes moved from him to the tent where Emma was sleeping. “How is she?” 

Killian glanced around for anyone who might overhear them. “She’s scared,” he said truthfully. “It rattled her.”

There was a pause before the Queen spoke. “Has her magic done anything like that before?”

“There were moments it seemed to burst from her almost subconsciously. It happened when she needed to protect people she cared about, but it was never unprovoked like this.”

He worried again what it could mean that her magic was growing and becoming more unpredictable. 

“She had magic when she was a little girl,” the Queen said, her tone soft with memory. “She would make stars. That’s what we called it, ‘make stars’. These little lights that would dance and play around her. She’d giggle and they would all twinkle. It was beautiful.”

Killian smiled imagining it.

“I hate that it’s something harmful to her now,” she said and his smile faded. “She’s been through so much.”

“This is a delicate situation,” she continued quietly, glancing at the rest of the camp. “We can’t afford to lose travel time, but I don’t want to push Emma.”

The longer they waited the harder it would be to take control in Misthaven. The royal family couldn’t afford to show any weakness and Emma spontaneously flattening a mountainside was not exactly a show of control. 

“We aren’t even halfway threre,” he said looking west at the numerous peaks between them and Misthaven.

“There is a way,” she said slowly, he got the sense she hadn’t suggested this to anyone else yet. “The old mining pass. It cuts through the south mountains.”

Killian frowned. “That’s controlled by the Industrialists.”

“The Industrialists are gone,” she reminded him.

“You can’t be sure of that. They have left the Capital but they may have lingered in places like the mining camps.”

“We don’t have many options.”

Something in her tone begged him for guidance, and he wasn’t sure when she had decided that he was someone she could confide in or trust in his council. She had groups of advisors who had served her for years.

“Emma nearly brought down a mountain this morning, are you sure want to be trapped within one if it happens again?”

Her expression darkened.

“Our only chance is to get back before it happens again. I believe her magic is tethered in Misthaven, it is where the power of my family has resided for centuries.”

Killian was no expert on magic but this felt more like a wish than a guarantee.

“We leave as soon as Emma is ready,” she said and walked away.

Killian pinched the bridge of his nose. This was what he had feared more than anything: losing his choices, getting backed into a corner by Kings and Queens pulling rank. Now instead knowingly walking into a bad situation he was being dragged into a worse one.

He ducked back into the tent. Emma was awake and slowly packing her things. She seemed distant.

“We’re not leaving until you’re ready,” he said. “You can rest longer-”

“I’m fine,” she said.

It was a lie. He didn’t call her on it.

There was determination in her movements. He knew she didn’t want to be a burden. While she gathered her things he took care of everything else and packing their tent. She knelt on the ground at the water’s edge and filled her canteen.

The other tents had been packed away. Horses saddled and readied.

“Come on,” he said when he couldn’t stall any longer. “Ride with me, just for a bit.”

Emma frowned. “You don’t need to baby me.”

He reached out a hand and pulled her up beside him. “Humor me, Emma,” he said with enough insistence that she didn’t argue.

She settled into the saddle just in front of him, pressed up against him. Close enough he could feel her trembling slightly. She was quiet, putting on a good show for everyone around them, but he knew she was still unsettled by what happened that morning.

They took a road winding south through the mountains. He kept a close eye on the others around them, the looks they gave him and Emma. Wary, unsure, but still awed. They all seemed to be waiting to see how everyone else was reacting before they passed final judgement. He made sure it was clear his loyalty to her was unshaken.

By afternoon the Iron Mountain rose up before them mist hanging around it. It stood out from the other mountains because of the metalwork that climbed the side of the mountain like a scar. All part of the mining operation that had supplied Misthaven, but it was the Industrialists who had taken full advantage of the mountain’s resources.

This was a mistake.

“It’s imposing, isn’t it?” Emma said softly.

He nudged his horse to a trot, moving up the column to where Ruby and the King and Queen were at the front. They stopped at the foot of the mountain beside wide tracks of the funicular rail cars. Gears and pulleys taller than he was sat silent in the great machine’s workings.

“We get this running and we can move people up to the tunnel pass,” the King said nodding to a few of the guards and others who began moving toward the controls.

Killian helped Emma down from the saddle.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked her parents. “We don’t know the last time this was used. It was built by the Industrialists.”

“Well, at least we know it’s well-built then,” one of the men scoffed.

Emma shivered beside him.

Killian looked up the side of the mountain to where the tracks disappeared into the mist. Another dead end. They were wasting time. He glanced at Emma who was looking at her hands.

The man extended a hand indicating the crank, turbine, and a collection of gauges and gears. “Here. The whole thing was built to run on coal steam. We restart the fire and the engine starts again.” 

“How do you know that?” a guard asked him.

“I used to be mechanic,” he told them, before seeing their looks of distrust. “We had grain elevators and clocks before the Industrialists. They didn’t invent everything.

“This gear will hoist the car along the track and reset the counterweight. It will still take several minutes to reach the top of the track and we will need multiple trips to get everyone through.”

“A coal fire will take hours to get hot enough,” Ruby pointed out.

“I think I can do it,” Emma said slowly. All eyes turned to her. “The amulet, it used my magic to power their inventions. I can use magic to light the coal.”

“No, Emma,” Ruby said stepping between her and the car. “It’s too dangerous.”

“We’ve come this far, we can’t just turn around.”

“Emma,” Killian said pulling her aside. “You lost control only this morning. We don’t know how your magic works, or how to use it properly. What if it requires more power than you have to give?”

“We have to try,” she said.

He shook his head. “The whole point of this plan was to avoid you using magic again.”

“The whole point,” she said firmly, “is to get back to Misthaven. And this is the most direct road.”

She didn’t give him a chance to argue. Headstrong as always, never cautious with her own safety. 

Emma walked over to where the others stood around the wheel house. Then she reached out and laid her hands against the machine, her eyes closing in concentration.

For a moment nothing happened. Emma’s nails blanched white as she pressed harder against the steel. He took a step forward, about to stop her, stop all of this, but then the coal in the burner burst into flame, burning red hot all the way through. The machine let out a groan, an ancient dragon stirring to life.

Emma’s brows furrowed with effort. The needles on the gauges above her hands began to flutter, pressure building in the mechanism. Gears ground into motion small gears turning larger gears until at last the large pulleys and wheels for the cable car. Slowly the car lowered into place in front of them with shuddering thud.

“Holy shit,” the mechanic breathed. Emma’s eyes opened and she turned to look at him, her hands dropping from the machine. 

The others looked a mix of impressed, and intrigued. A few smiles broke among the crowd.

“It will work now,” Emma told them. She looked tired, but confident.

“We’ll go with the first group,” the Queen said standing beside the King. 

It was a show of solidarity and belief in Emma. Something he hadn’t seen from them often, something he knew Emma needed after this morning.

“I’ll stay here at the controls in case something goes wrong,” Emma said. “I’ll go up last.”

Ruby lowered her pack to the ground meaning to stay back.

“Come on,” the King said. “Let’s get the first group loaded. We get everyone up to the tunnels then we can bring gear and horses.”

They only filled the car half full for the first trip. The mechanic heaved a lever on the panel to the right and the car groaned into motion, rising slowly above the crowd. The gears clacking and the car grinding along the rails.

It wasn’t long before the car was lost in the mist. Everyone on the ground waited watching the wheels continue turning in the wheelhouse. Then it ground to a stop, and then after a few minutes it started again turning in the opposite direction. Returning down the slope.

There were many more enthusiastic volunteers for the second and third carloads. When there were only a few people left they sent up supplies and horses.

“No more stalling then, huh?” Ruby smirked when it was only the three of them and the mechanic left at the base. 

The car settled back at the base. Emma brushed a hand down the control panel before turning and stepping into the car. Killian pulled the gated door shut. The car began to rise at once.

“Should have gone up before the horses,” the mechanic groaned his nose wrinkling at the lingering scent.

Emma gripped the shaking grated walls looking out as they rose among the mountains. Killian joined her, looking at the road they had taken stretch away from them. He looked out to the horizon imagining he could make out Glowerhaven and the sea that lay beyond.

Too soon the view was obscured by heavy mist. Killian turned back to the others inside the car. Ruby was leaning in the far corner picking at her nails. He knew she hated heights, though she’d never admit it. 

At the top of the rails the car eased to a stop. He pulled open the door to reveal the wide tunnel beyond. It stretched into darkness like looking down the throat of a great beast waiting to swallow them whole.

The others were already starting down the tunnel, torches reflecting off the rough stone walls. The whole thing had an eerie feel, he was already anxious to be through to the other side.

Emma and Ruby walked with him at the rear of the group making sure no one fell behind. They walked for a few hours before making camp in the tunnel. He wasn’t sure he’d get any sleep here.

~*~

Emma was tired, bone deep tired, her muscles aching. But her mind raced and she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. Several fires burned in the small tunnel, sending flickering shadows over the groups of people resting and sleeping. Nearby a horse nickered, the faintest breeze touched her skin, she more sensed more than felt the change in the air. 

Goosebumps rose on her arms, the hair standing on end, prickling at the back of her neck. She glanced around but no one else seemed alarmed. 

Another horse stamped its foot and Emma sat up and turned toward the noise. Her eyes straining to look into the darkness back the way they had come.

“What is it?” Ruby asked her.

“Shhh.” She held up a hand. She couldn’t see anything beyond the circle of firelight, but she had the sense something was watching her.

Another small breeze brushed by her and this time she heard it. A soft scratching sound, like fingernails drumming on a surface. Or something skittering in the dark. Something was in the tunnel and getting closer.

She jumped up and grabbed the pistol from her pack raising it to point down the tunnel.

“What is that noise?” Ruby said softly grabbing her own weapon.

Killian reached into the fire with his metal hand and grabbed one of the small logs as a makeshift torch. 

“Get the others up and moving,” he said to Ruby.

She turned and started shaking awake everyone around the other fires. Emma turned to Killian as he took a step past her, his torch lighting the dark tunnel, throwing sharp shadows on the walls. She matched his stride, staying just behind him her pistol raised.

The noise was louder now, a grinding clicking. Killian raised the torch higher trying to cast the light just a little further. Emma’s eyes followed the light up onto the ceiling of the tunnel and she gasped as the jagged surface shifted, moving with dozens of mechanical legs clicking above them.

“Above you!” Emma tried to warn Killian as something separated itself from the jumble, some kind of mechanical spider. It fell, its many legs reaching for Killian knocking him over. He hit the ground with a grunt, the torch rolling from his hand, and the spider righted itself its metal legs scrambling toward him.

Emma aimed and fired just as it reached Killian. The shot burying right into the center of its body. It spluttered, its circuits sparking. Killian kicked out knocking it back and it crumpled.

Their eyes met for a split second before three more of the spiders dropped from above them. Emma shot one as it fell, metal and sparks bursting apart before it hit the floor, like some horrible firework display. The other two rounded on Killian anr she couldn’t get a clear shot. 

Killian picked up the torch again and swung hard connecting with the spider closest to him and slamming it into the tunnel wall. Emma kicked the other one and shot two bullets into it, her ears ringing from the echo off the hard rock around her.

“- some kind of security system,” Killian was saying but she wasn’t sure she was hearing the words right over the buzzing from her ears.

Then he was there grabbing her elbow and dragging her back. “-out of here, Emma,” he said fiercely.

She looked at him and saw more of those things coming toward them over his shoulder. She pointed the gun but he pushed her back from them. 

“Run!” he yelled and that she heard perfectly.

She tried to turn and run but her boot caught on one of the legs of a spider they had destroyed and she stumbled. She hit the ground hard skinning her knee, the wound stinging and burning. Blood trickled down her leg. She could hear commotion down the tunnel where the others were, yells and running steps. If any of those things had gotten by them they might be attacking the others right now. She tightened her grip on her pistol and struggled to her feet.

Then Killian was there carrying the torch, his sword in hid other hand making a wide arch. He slashed at the spider closest to her the sword ringing out as it sliced at its legs. He was fire and steel as he whirled sending it flying back.

She fired her pistol hitting another of them, the next shot going wide and ricocheting off the wall. She aimed again but the gun clicked in her hand. She swore.

“Magic, Emma,” Killian called between his gritted teeth plunging the sword into the spider she had missed.

She looked down at her hands, but there was no glow from her palms, the fire quiet in her veins. Before when she had needed magic it had just come to her like a rush of adrenaline, powerful and instinctual. Now, after days of constantly pushing back that force, it seemed gone. Maybe her outburst in the woods had truly drained her. 

“Now Emma!” he yelled and she could see he was losing ground to those things.

She closed her eyes grappling inside herself for that power, begging for it to come. At last she felt a buzz in her fingertips, a small flame in the nothingness. She concentrated on that balling her hands into fists and squeezing them hard trying to strengthen the building force. To physically press it from her fingers to her palms, to let it flow through her.

There was a sound of something hitting flesh and Killian hissed. She knew those things were going to overpower him if she didn’t act. She tried to master her fear, thinking of him and her need to protect him, protect herself and the others. Her heart slammed against her ribs and she felt that telltale sensation of heat and electricity pounding through her.

She opened her eyes seeing blue light sparking off her hands. She put all her energy into it and she threw out her hands willing that power from her. Light and energy burst from her careening down the tunnel in bolts and flashes like lightning.

Each time it hit one of the spiders they jolted and fell twitching to the ground. She watched until the magic faded out far down the tunnel. She sank to her knees shivering as a chill ran through her. It was like an icy sea rising up around her and she shuddered as it claimed her. 

~*~

Killian stared as the ball of light magic flared down the tunnel destroying the machines coming after them. It faded into the distance like a shooting star falling over the horizon. Emma collapsed beside him.

He hurried to her side. She blinked up at him, and he left out a breath in relief, for a moment he thought she might pass out like she had on the train, or worse.

“I’m okay,” she muttered. How many times had she said that today? He rolled his eyes at her stubbornness.

He wrapped his arms around Emma and pulled her up. “Can you walk?” he asked her.

She nodded but she didn’t seem able to stand on her own. He pulled her trembling arm across his shoulder and helped her limp down the tunnel. There was no stirring of those mechanical monsters but still he kept a tight grip on his sword.

“What the hell were those things?” she said roughly, her voice weak like she had been screaming.

“Industrialist inventions. Always a joy to discover,” he huffed.

Again genius seemed to come at the cost of madness. Who released killing machines into a mine? 

“I think I woke up more than I meant to when i started that fire at the cable car,” Emma said quietly. 

He frowned at her words, remembering what she had said about the amulet. Gold had used her magic to make his machines more powerful, maybe using her magic would have ramifications they didn’t yet understand.

He could feel the warmth of her through his heavy jacket. She had said her magic was a fire within her. Blazing around her, leaving a marked path in her wake, written like light across the sky, everywhere she went her power changing everything it touched. She had saved his life, and opened his cold heart. People were drawn to her, inspired by her, right now they marched back to her homeland with her, for her, because she had already done the impossible, nearly moved mountains, and toppled empires. 

She worried she had woken more by lighting a fire, but she was the fire and many more would join her cause, drawn to her side, believing in her power. Embers catching fire. 

As they moved toward the distant light of dawn at the end of the tunnel he felt as if he could suddenly see the path of her life clear as day, and he only hoped his never strayed.


	3. Unexpected

They crossed into Misthaven in the evening the next day. There was no fanfare, no joyous welcome for the royal family. There were no parades, no cheering crowds. There was little more than a carved stone to mark the border on the side of the path as it twisted down from the mountain pass. Just a few words on a rock to let them know they were back.

Ruby was glad that at least this time as they crossed the border they weren’t dodging bullets. They had had their share of dangers in the mountains.

But the quiet, peaceful golden light of the fading sun just made it feel more ominous. It felt a bit like a gilded trap waiting to spring shut around them. Each step from this point had to be taken with even more care than the last. Each step from this point was a step further into dangerous territory. 

They slowed to wait for the scouts they sent ahead to report back. Ruby thought this halting careful pace felt much more like that of a sneaking criminal than the return of someone coming triumphantly home. 

Killian stood a few yards away keeping watch, his hand lingering on the hilt of the sword at his hip. He had been even more tense since they crossed the border. She wondered if he was half expecting to see the dark shapes of blackguards between the trees like she was. In these familiar woods it was hard not to slip back into old habits, old fears.

The sun had set giving way to the eerie light of dusk when a group of their scouts rode up the road returning to their party. Ruby and the others all stood as they approached. There was a new man riding with them at the front. He pulled up his horse just in front of them swinging down from the saddle and bowing to the King and Queen.

“Your Majesties,” he said. “It is good to have you home at last.”

Then the man caught sight of Emma standing beside her parents and froze. His face lit up. “Princess Emma?” 

Emma was looking at him with confusion that slowly blossomed into recognition. “August?” she breathed after a moment. Then she was launching herself at him pulling him into a hug.

Ruby caught Killian’s equally shocked look. His brows pulling down as he watched them pull apart, August’s hands lingering at Emma’s waist.

“How are you here?” Emma asked him.

August’s smile spread a little wider. “Same as you, I’d guess. Sheer stubborn force of will.”

There were equal parts sadness and understanding in Emma’s expression. 

“I thought I’d never see you again,” August told her. She gave the shoulder of his coat a reassuring squeeze before stepping back enough that his hands dropped from her.

“Is Marco with you?” The Queen asked.

August turned away from Emma and shook his head.

“No. He’s gone, Your Majesty,” he said. “The revolt…”

The Queen’s face fell. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

August nodded. “It was years ago. The important thing is you’re back now.” He glanced at Emma again. “All of you.”

“How did you find us?” The King asked.

August gestured to the guards who had scouted ahead. “We’ve been watching the roads from the mountains. When I saw the royal guards I knew I had to see if all the rumors were true.”

“We?” the King repeated looking over August’s shoulder to see if there were more new faces. 

August looked between them all. Ruby saw his eyes pause where she and Killian were standing. “We’re a small group but we’ve all returned from exile in preparation for your return. The city has become a powder keg, too many people have been scrambling for power since Gold fell. It would only take a small spark for a war to break out in the streets. We came to be sure that doesn’t happen, and that the rightful leaders take control.”

The King and Queen exchanged a look.

August continued, “It will be full dark soon, these woods aren’t safe. You need to come with me.”

“Where?” Emma asked.

August’s attention slid back to her and he pointed east. “We’ve taken back the Lakeside Palace. It’s our closest outpost. I’ll take your group there.”

Ruby had heard of the palace by Lake Nostos but she had never been there. It had been built hundreds of years ago as a summer retreat for the royal family. But over time it had fallen out of favor for the royals to flaunt such luxury. The palace had served different purposes, it had functioned as a hospital, an orphanage, and a campus for the University. Now it seemed to be a home for refugees.

The King reached out and shook August’s hand. “Thank you.”

With that they were all following as August lead them down another path twisting through the woods as the shadows deepened around them until at last they broke through the trees to the sight of the wide lake stretching out to the horizon and the sprawling palace estate sitting on the shore.

Pale stone stood out against the dark night. Hundreds of thick glass windows faced out toward the water, carved stonework and arches added an elegance to the edifice. It wasn’t as menacing a presence as the castle in the city but something softer and sophisticated.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” she said as Killian paused beside her.

“It’s certainly easy to see why someone thought this would be a fitting place for a palace,” Killian replied. “It makes it easier to forget what it’s really like just a few miles from here.”

He was right. Not five miles away the city churned away, deals made, people cheated, children starving in the alleys. But in this place it almost seemed like the revolution had never happened. It was a small piece of old Misthaven that still lived. This place was an illusion to shield people from reality. She wondered if it was a mistake to bring the King and Queen here. Maybe it was  _ too safe _ here. Had they just gone from one cozy hideaway to another? If they never saw the reality of what had happened after the revolt then they would never really understand.

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

August pulled open the wide doors to the palace, engraved wood inlaid with silver. Ruby stepped into the wide entryway. It was clear that the palace had been neglected for years, and probably had not been properly cared for in generations, but it still took Ruby’s breath away.

White marble floors reflected back the light from the gas lamps. The smell of the flames mixing with the scent of the forest and the lake that wafted in through the open windows lined with gossamer curtains. Delicately carved panels of dark wood lined the walls interrupted only by paintings of landscapes of places in Misthaven.

“Do you like it, Emma?” August asked. Emma turned her gaze from the tiled ceiling to him.

“It’s lovely.”

August smiled, as if he himself were the architect she was complimenting.

“This way,” he said leading them through an arch in the far wall of the entryway.

Ruby saw Killian move closer to Emma as they made their way to a sitting room. There were a few groups of cushioned chairs and across from the windows was a stone fireplace with a large crackling fire.

“You said this was the closest outpost?” Emma asked him. “How many others are there? Are you positioned in the city as well?”

August frowned. “We haven’t been able to find a safe place within the city yet, but we have rallied some farmers in the south and we have a large group of supporters in White Cove, enough to control the port.”

Ruby had to admit she was impressed. It was more of a start than she thought they’d have when they arrived.

“We’ll need to take control of the city if we are going to take back power,” the King said.

The others nodded but August frowned slightly.

“We’ll stay here tonight,” Killian agreed. “Then tomorrow we can go into the city.”

“I have to advise against that, a lot has changed since you left,” August said.

Killian looked almost surprised to be challenged, his eyes running down August.

“I think I know the city. I’ve only been gone a few weeks,” Killian said standing up to his full height. “I’m not afraid of dark alleys and pickpockets or scoundrels. The city has always been like that for those of us without a silver spoon.”

August bristled but had the good sense not to argue. 

“Fine,” the Queen said stepping in to diffuse the tension. “But no one leaves until the morning. And no one goes alone.”

“I’ll go with him,” Emma said.

“No,” Killian and August said at the same time. Both of them glanced at the other before turning away. August had the sense to look apologetic.

“Killian,” Emma said quietly, there was more of a plea in her eyes than her tone. “You can’t go alone.”

They stared each other down for a moment, a clash of wills. The answer seemed clear to Ruby.

“I’ll go,” Ruby said, speaking up at last. “Killian won’t be alone.”

Emma didn’t look convinced crossing her arms but she didn’t argue further. The Queen gave Killian a loaded look. It spoke to a deeper understanding between the Queen and Killian than she had realized existed.

“You’re just going to look around,” the Queen told them. “I don’t want anyone starting conflict before we even know who we are up against.”

~*~

Killian and Ruby left before dawn. They reached the edges of the city just as the sun was rising. It was a strange feeling to be back at the place where they had started, back at the beginning. 

He walked slowly, his footsteps echoing on the cobblestones. He had walked these streets hundreds of times but now it felt unfamiliar. They had been here just a couple months ago but now he felt like a different person. The buildings on either side seemed to sneer down at him. Their cracked walls looking more rugged than when he had last seen them. 

“I had almost forgotten the feeling,” Ruby muttered from beside him.

He knew what she meant. The city pressed in around them like a physical presence. Desperation and helplessness thick in the air like fog. 

They passed over the canal, the black water reflecting back a distorted reality. This neighborhood had been his home. Each brick in these crumbling buildings had been a familiar face. He had known what was lurking behind every corner. Once it hadn’t had any secrets he didn’t know. This had been his kingdom. 

They passed a few people on the street and each of them eyed Ruby and him carefully. He heard the rushed whispers that rustled in their wake. He wondered if people had noticed when he and Ruby had left. Had there been any whispered tales of their escape or disappearance? Were they like ghosts to the haunted faces around them?

He glanced over at Ruby and the small smirk on her lips as she took in the city around them. She looked almost pleased to be back, the hustle and grind of the city’s underbelly making her come alive. The blossom that bloomed in the ashes as the world burned around her.

He was so distracted by his own thoughts that he didn’t notice the young boy coming towards them until he stopped, blocking their path.

“You need to come with me,” he said. His clothes were scuffed and his boots were worn enough to be from this part of town, but his face wasn’t one Killian knew.

“Why would we do that?” Ruby asked him.

The boy’s eyes cut to the shadows across the street where Killian could see several sets of eyes watching them carefully. One hulking figure stepped forward his hand landing on the hilt of a dagger shoved through his belt. A few others joined him, blocking any route of escape.

Ruby shot Killian a glance. They were outnumbered. He couldn’t tell how well armed they were, but from the weight he could see sitting in a coat pocket, he imagined they were also soundly outgunned. Fighting wouldn’t get them far, so he shifted his weight into a casual stance and gave the boy a shrug.

“Might as well get this over with,” Killian said with a nonchalance he didn’t feel.

“Good,” the boy said as if he hadn’t expected any other outcome. “Follow me. This way.” He turned to lead them past the others where they fell into step around them, not unlike guards leading prisoners.

Ruby met Killian’s eyes again. He wasn’t exactly sure what they had walked into but once again he was glad Emma hadn’t come with them. This was about to be something he didn’t want her caught up in. Either some old feud coming back to haunt them or a new threat, in any case Emma’s newfound status as a princess would only have put her in more danger.

They were led down winding streets weaving their way through the city. The gutters dripped from above them and conduits clanged loudly as they passed. It was a sound so ingrained in Killian’s memory of the city that it brought back a dizzying mix of emotions.

He knew where they were headed long before they reached the old factory on Breaker Street. It had been abandoned by the Industrialists years ago, forgotten by them long before Gold fell. It had been a place homeless factory workers squatted and it was a bastion in the city’s underworld. A place where dangerous games of chance were played and where countless scams were hatched. You could always find a job at the factory as long as you weren’t picky about legality.

As they approached it loomed above them, throwing them into shadow. Killian held the heavy iron door open for Ruby, and together they disappeared inside.

There was a beauty to the factory that time and neglect hadn’t been able to completely erase. The tall arching ceiling was made of thick glass through which Killian could see the thick gray clouds. And around them the iron beams rose holding scrolling and tarnished sconces whose light flickered off the brass arms of machines and engines arranged in assembly lines that had been silent for years. It should have been a jewel of the Industrialist regime but they had ruthlessly practical and cast off anything that no longer served a purpose regardless of its beauty.

“Wait here,” the boy said and Killian was surprised when the others followed him out of the hall, leaving him alone with Ruby.

Killian looked around noting the doors off the main hall marking any possible exit. An old habit he was once again thankful for. Look at them, he thought unable to bite back the smallest smile, back at the Breaker Street Factory, backs against the wall, the two of them against the world… it was just like old times. 

“If they know who we are, there’s a very good chance they know who we came back to Misthaven with,” Ruby said her eyes alight, already running through several plans to navigate this situation, weighing the odds of each. It was one of those things that made her an invaluable partner. He watched her do what she did best and he had to admit he had missed this too. 

They’d have to trade on their old reputation for as long as they could, with any luck that still carried some weight. Then again luck was the only thing you couldn’t steal or cheat away from someone else, and so it was always in short supply here.

“Killian? Ruby?” a voice said from behind them. Killian swung around in disbelief.

There standing before them, looking much as he had the last time they had seen him, was Robin. Killian couldn’t stop the shock that crashed over him, his mouth falling open. He glanced around as if there might be some indication this was a trick. Ruby slowly sank to her knees her hand covering her mouth.

“Robin?” she choked out, her voice unsure, as if she was afraid if she spoke his name he might disappear. Only an illusion. 

Robin helped her up from the floor and pulled her into a tight hug. Killian looked around looking for any other surprises waiting for them in the shadows of the hall.

“Killian!” an excited Roland exclaimed appearing and racing over to him. He slammed into Killian gripping his waist tightly. Killian absently, acting more on instinct than anything, ruffled Roland’s hair in a familiar gesture, one he hadn’t thought he’d do again.

Roland released him and hugged Ruby. She folded him tightly into her as Roland babbled to her about all the things they had missed.

Robin reached out clasping Killian’s hand tightly. Solid, warm. Killian searched his face for any sign of a trap or trick. 

“How?” Killian asked him, “How did you get away?”

They had heard the gunshots in the woods. The blackguards closing in, surrounding them. He’d been so sure Robin hadn’t escaped.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Robin said. “When we were ambushed those blackguard bastards were hellbent on stopping you from crossing the border. They barely glanced at me and the Merry Men before tearing off after you.”

“I suspect I know why.” His eyes flicked between him and Ruby. “The two of you alone never garnered that kind of blackguard attention. But your lovely companion, Emma, was definitely more than the orphan girl you were attempting to pass her off as to have a legion of blackguards on her tail.”

He could only imagine the wild stories that had torn through the streets, exaggerated and warped at every retelling. But he kept quiet. He wasn’t about to confirm any rumors about Emma’s true identity that might put a target on her back, not even to Robin. Everything would be revealed soon, he had no doubt, but he wasn’t going to show their hand all at once.

“What about the Merry Men?” Killian asked steering the conversation away from Emma. “Is this your new hideout?”

Robin pursed his lips looking away. “The Merry Men don’t exist anymore,” he said.

Ruby looked up at that. “What do you mean?”

“We survived the skirmish at the border, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t have consequences. The blackguards were everywhere after that. Members getting dragged in for questioning, homes raided. I disbanded the group because it was too dangerous.”

Robin continued, “Gold became unhinged. Tearing apart the city for any trace of you and where you were going. Whispers of a key, some kind of power source, they were saying you stole it when you left. Gold was adamant about getting it back. Dozens of blackguards were sent over the border after you. I’ve never seen anything like it. He tightened his grip on everything.”

Killian knew the destruction Gold could have brought down on the lives of everyone they had known. The looks they had gotten in the street were starting to make a bit more sense.

“Then the real rumors started,” Robin continued. “The Princess had been found. Gold had been defeated. The richest Industrialists packed up anything that wasn’t nailed down and fled. One day they were everywhere and the next they were gone. No one knew what was happening. And just like after the revolt people turned on each other trying to take anything they could in the confusion. Without any leadership new gangs formed and claimed territory. And then the Black Knights came, adding to the panic.”

“New gangs?” Killian asked gleaning onto that information.

Robin’s gaze cut to him, an unreadable expression there. 

“This seems as good a time as any for an introduction,” a voice said from the end of the hall. A figure moved forward, lean and stalking toward them like a cat. His face somewhere between a boy and man, timeless and cunning.

Killian noticed how Roland shrunk back against Robin as the newcomer approached. 

“This is Peter, leader of the Lost Boys,” Robin supplied. “They control the slums on the west side of the city.”

“You’re the one who brought us here?” Killian asked Peter sizing him up, the thin scar on the back of his hand, his tailored clothes. “So what now? You want us to pay you money? Declare allegiance?”

Peter laughed, the sound was like grating metal, it sent a shiver up Killian’s spine. “No, I just wanted an introduction with two of the most notorious players this city has ever known. Imagine my delight when I found out my new friend Locksley was a close acquaintance of yours.”

Killian’s brows raised the smallest amount as he listened. There was a threat hidden in Peter’s words that did not fall on deaf ears.  _ Fall in line like Robin obviously had or there would be trouble _ . 

Killian looked over at Ruby who was standing with her hands on her hips in a way Killian knew meant trouble, waiting for the slightest opportunity to pounce. Peter might know who they were but clearly he didn’t know them well enough. He’d have better luck bottling lightning than pinning Ruby to a cause she didn’t believe in.

“And now you’ve introduced yourself,” Ruby said her tone calm but her eyes shone like fire, “Clearly  _ we _ need no introduction. We may have been out of the city these past few weeks but we haven’t forgotten how this game is played.”

Peter’s smile stretched at the word game, like a child who had finally found someone to play with him. 

“I’m merely offering you amnesty with the Lost Boys,” he said, his eyes raking over Ruby in appraisal. “I didn’t intend to offend, Miss.”

Killian didn’t like it. He didn’t like Peter, his veiled threats, or his hungry look at Ruby.

“We’re not looking to make new friends,” Killian told Peter. “We are just here to see what became of the city after Gold.”

Peter turned his black eyes on Killian. “Actually, I’ve heard you’ve made quite a few new friends lately. Friends in high places. Friends I’m sure you will be reporting all this back to. Well, be sure to tell them that this city is already spoken for, and it has no need of Kings and Queens.”

The way he said it made it clear he was well informed about their party at the lakeside palace. 

Killian looked over at Robin who was impassively watching their exchange, not jumping to the aid of either side. A master of patience, reading the ebb and flow of power, and playing his advantage at the right time. It was how they all had survived this long.

Robin noticed his look and seemed to read his expression because he took a step forward, raising a hand. “There’s no need to draw any battlelines. None of us want to make enemies of each other.”

It wasn’t lost on Killian that for all his intervention Robin’s words were still artfully neutral. 

Robin might not be outwardly picking sides, but Killian was going to trust Robin more than some punk ass kid who had managed to wrangle together a half baked gang from the ashes. And if Robin wanted them to play nice for the moment Killian could take a hint.

He gave a half nod, his hand slipping to his side from where it had been resting on the hilt of his sword.

“Good. Now that we’ve achieved some civility, perhaps there are things we might discuss in private,” Peter said his gaze moving between them. He waved for them to follow him.

Robin stayed where he was and when Ruby shot him a glance he just nodded to them waving them on. His job done, a pawn to put them at ease before Peter dug in his claws. The bait for the trap they were walking into.

Killian and Ruby followed Peter to an iron spiral staircase at the far end of the room that no doubt lead to offices that had once been for foremen. Now they were serving Peter’s purpose.

The stairs creaked under their feet. Killian glanced down at the floor below them, his stomach swooping at the height through the grated steps. 

He kept careful track of the turns they made in the hallway beyond the stairs. He had a feeling they’d be making a getaway sooner rather than later.

Peter stopped at a large corner office with large windows looking out at the gray sky.

“Sit,” Peter said waving to the chairs beside a desk as they entered the office. Instead, Killian’s eyes scanned the papers and notes tacked to the walls. Crinkled order forms and invoices, notices, shipment reports, airship routes, handwritten lists of names. Killian stepped closer his eyes scanning for any familiar names. He couldn’t tell if these were all left over from the Industrialists or were compiled by Peter. He wondered exactly what this gang had its hands in.

“Get some refreshments for our guests, Felix,” Peter said to the tall lanky boy who appeared at the door.

Killian turned and studied the boy’s wild blond hair and gangly gait. 

“Seem familiar, Jones?” Peter asked following his gaze. “I believe you had a run in with his brother, Rufio?”

Killian felt the blood drain from his face. A terrible memory struggling to break free. Peter seemed to mark his expression with the ghost of a smirk before sinking into the chair behind the desk. 

“It’s okay,” he told them calmly with a wave of his hand. “I don’t hold grudges. What happened, happened. We all have been given a second chance. Let’s not waste it.”

He pointed again at the seats in front of him. Ruby hesitated before obliging, slowly sinking into one of the chairs. Killian remained standing beside Ruby.

“What exactly are you proposing?” Ruby asked.

Peter steepled his fingers in front of him as he watched Ruby. “Yours is an interesting story, Ruby,” he said and Killian noted his use of her first name, suddenly informal. “Interesting, but not unique.”

Ruby’s fingers knotted in her lap, her knuckles white, the only crack in her relaxed facade.

“The Lost Boys, and you’ll have to pardon that gendered title,” Peter said with a smirk. “Every one of us has suffered at the careless hands of past rulers. First the aloofness of the Royals and then the violence and oppression of the Industrialists. Most of us lost our families in the revolt. We are orphans of the revolution. Abandoned. Lost. Forgotten. Left behind.”

Ruby’s brows pulled down the smallest fraction.

“But together we have become stronger. Each a piece in a larger machine, a part of something that matters. Together we found a family. You could be a part of that family.”

He had eyes only for Ruby as he finished his speech.

“That’s a nice sentiment,” Ruby told him with just a hint of an edge to her tone. “But I already found a family.”

Peter’s eyes flicked up to where Killian was standing as if he only suddenly remembered he was even there. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. People can drift apart when they have conflicting interests.”

“We don’t have conflicting interests,” Killian said firmly.

Peter smiled a sly smile and leaned forward toward Ruby before saying conspiratorially in a whisper he knew they could all hear, “But which of his ladies do you think he would really choose if it came down to it? You or a Princess? I hear she’s beautiful-”

“That’s enough,” Killian said angrily shoving around the chair toward Peter. He didn’t care if he strangled the little shit in the middle of his stronghold full of his followers, at least it would be satisfying.

“Hold it there,” Felix said as he let the tray he had brought back clatter to the floor, porcelain shattering. He held a pistol pointed right at Killian’s head. “Not one more step.”

Peter waved Felix off as he looked up at Killian with venomous delight. “So, it is true then,” he murmured. “Jones hooked a Princess. Well, I’ll admit I’m impressed.”

Killian looked down at him on the opposite side of the desk.

“I don’t care what impresses you,” Killian said icily.

Peter stared at him for a long moment and for the first time since they met Killian got a sense of the danger Peter might actually be. “You will care someday.”

“We’re leaving,” Killian said nudging Ruby up from the chair his words daring Peter to try to keep them hostage.

But Peter made no move to stop them. He just flicked his hand, a small card appearing between his fingers as if by magic. He moved around the desk and held the card out to Ruby. “Just in case you change your mind.”

Her eyes met Peter’s, holding there. For the briefest moment Killian felt a small flash of uncertainty, maybe she was actually considering his offer. But Ruby merely took the card and slipped it into one of her pockets and then she was gripping his arm and steering them from the office.

“You’re just letting them go?” Felix growled in disbelief behind them.

Peter’s answer was lost as they rounded the corner and moved quickly down the stairs half running past the abandoned machines down the main gallery. 

Robin was there waiting where they left him. He seemed a little surprised by their hurry and his eyes flashed from them to the staircase leading to Peter’s office.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” Robin asked concerned.

“No,” Ruby said with a smirk. “Just overstayed our welcome I think.”

“Leave it to you two,” Robin muttered leading them a few yards to a side door. “This way.”

They slipped by him out the door when Robin reached out grabbing Killian’s arm pulling him up. “Take the back alleys toward the canal. He only patrols the main streets. And for god’s sake keep the Royals out of this part of the city. Be careful.”

Killian gripped his shoulder. “We’re staying at-”

Robin shook his head holding up a hand to stop him. “It’s better if I don’t know.”

Killian frowned. “Robin, come with us.”

It was similar to what he had said in the woods at the border. Robin smiled like he remembered too but he was already pulling away.

“Not this time,” he said before adding, “You’re going to need allies before this is over. When you need me, ask for me in the catacombs.”

Before Killian could answer Robin slipped back inside the factory and the door shut in their faces. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Ruby said and he followed her down one of the narrow sloping alleys.

They were halfway back along the forest road to the lake before Killian stopped looking over his shoulder, every minute expecting to hear hooves or gunshots following them. But the road was quiet and they slipped out of the city unnoticed. Or more likely they had been allowed to leave.

Away from Peter’s infuriating arrogance and cold eyes he felt his guilt bubble up. He had lost his temper. Peter had seemed to know the exact words to say to rile him up, he’d delighted in seeing him unravel. A cat playing with its prey. And Killian had played right into his plan. Now they had less than before, and it was his fault.

For days now he had been sure it would be the King and Queen that would make some misstep that would doom them all. He hadn’t expected to be the idiot who tipped their hand too early. Ruby walked silently beside him and he wondered if she blamed him too. 

He smelled the still water of the lake before he saw the palace. It was a welcome sight. He just wanted to see Emma. Selfishly he just wanted someone to look at him like he was worth something.

Ruby turned to him in the entryway, “We better fill in the Queen,” she said.

He looked around the room for Emma, but she wasn’t among the faces there. “Go on ahead,” he told her. “I’m going to find Emma.”

She looked at him for a moment like she was going to protest but she simply turned and headed off toward the library. Killian hesitated watching her go. It wasn’t like her to hold back, she must have been more mad than he suspected.

He stopped a guard in the hallway. “Where’s Emma?” he asked.

“The Princess isn’t here,” he said. “She stepped out.”

Killian frowned, the image of her curled alone in the woods still fresh in his mind. “Alone?”

The guard shook his head. “She went with Lord August,” he said before walking on.

Killian hadn’t thought it was possible for his mood to darken, but the universe seemed to be rubbing salt in his wounds.

~*~

All day the walls of the palace had seemed like a cage and Emma had paced like a captive animal. The world beyond the windows was calling to her. Some need thrummed within her, a beacon calling for her, begging her to come find the source. 

Finally by midday, Killian and Ruby hadn’t returned and she had cracked and made a plan, reckless and admittedly not well thought out. But she had needed to get away or she was going to lose her mind.

“I still can’t believe you’re back,” August mused again for what must have been the fourth time as they walked down the road. “We all hoped you were being hidden somewhere, of course. It just seemed with each year that passed that it was less likely.”

Emma met his eyes and gave him a small smile. She wondered if it had been a mistake to ask August to come with her, but she knew she would never have been allowed to leave the lakeside palace without someone accompanying her. She had sensed August wouldn’t deny her request, some deepset loyalty to the young princess he had known, the one he saw when he looked at her.

They had made their way to the city, a feat that had taken no small amount of pleading and flirting on her part before August agreed to despite his better judgement. She had promised they would stay in the nicer parts of the city, with shops and galleries. And she’d goaded him just a little saying she’d understand if he was afraid to go, playing off Killian’s comment the night before. He’d agreed to take her at once.

“Do you remember it?” he asked her quietly as he looked at the stone buildings around them. “All those summers my family came to the castle? The days we spent playing together?”

Emma tried to remember, tried to imagine hours spent in the gardens and running through the stone halls of the castle. But even as it was getting easier to recall her memories it was all still a little murky. Like a dream she couldn’t fully remember the details of. “I remember you, the rest is foggy.”

“Hell,” August sighed, “the things we’ve all gone through. To think that now, with you back, maybe it will all be over.”

Emma’s stomach sank at his words. Yet another person expecting her to change everything, to be the answer. She wondered if anyone had told August about how she had leveled a half mile of forest by accident. That might dim the admiration in his tone.

“We’ll be able to get things back to how they were,” he went on. “No more corruption, the criminals scrubbed from the streets. Trade will start again and everyone will prosper. This summer we could have the Solstice Festival. Can you remember the last time that happened?” 

He went on about his memories of the festival. The music playing all through the city, the petals that had floated in the air from a hundred thousand blooms in all the trees and decorating all the houses. The smell of fried dough and raspberry sauce. Emma wasn’t sure if she was remembering those things or if he was describing them so well that she could almost pretend the memories were her own.

As they moved further into the city Emma couldn’t stop the sense of deja vu. All their talk of the past made it all look more familiar. They passed a group of workers in rough cut clothes and dull colored coats. One narrowed his eyes as she passed and she pulled her hood a little lower over her face.

She wasn’t sure exactly where she was headed but she didn’t want to be recognized. She knew Killian would be mad at her for coming to the city. Mad that she hadn’t taken him with her, and even more peeved when he found out she’d chosen August. But she needed someone who wouldn’t challenge her the way he would have. She almost felt guilty but with each step that pull pulsed a little stronger, and her curiosity won out.

They turned down the tree lined avenue at the center of the city and Emma saw the old castle sitting on the hill. Her heart lifted a little at the sight. The ruined building had been her home, it was where she had met Killian. And now some part of her told her that it was where she needed to go now. That pull leading her back to where everything had begun.

August followed her gaze.“The castle. It’s just a shadow of what it once was.”

He continued to tell her about the damage that had been done during the revolt. The towers and battlements that had crumbled, those parts of the castle’s history lost.

She led the way up the road to the old castle walls. The old gate had been blasted apart, a pile of rubble. She reached out to run her fingers along the rough surface of the stones, a mix of emotions twisted within her like a pit of snakes.

She turned to him. “August, would you give me a minute alone? I just need to see it again.”

August glanced around clearly not sure if he could argue with her. He was probably remembering the promise he had made to her parents earlier to keep her out of trouble. They were just going on a walk, she’d told them. She’d just left out the part about that walk being in the city.

In the end August just nodded, agreeing as she knew he would, before adding. “Be careful.”

“Keep watch,” Emma said and she left him outside the castle wall and scrambled over the hewn stones onto the grounds. There was a thin blanket of snow clinging to the overgrown grass, untouched and unmelted by footsteps, machines, or gas conduits like out on the streets of the city. It crunched beneath her boots with each step leaving a trail of prints behind her.

It felt like crossing a border to a different realm, walking through the looking glass into memory. Here, nothing had changed. Each new view brought back dozens of memories, just being here again making them clearer and more real. As she moved she shed all the worries and fears she had armored herself with over the years until she almost that young girl who had called this castle home.

She turned the corner of the west tower lost in her thoughts when motion caught her eye. She froze, for a moment she thought she had imagined it, but then a shadow moved at the edge of the courtyard. A figure stepped from behind the row of leafless trees strolling in an unhurried way through the grounds. They wore a heavy cloak that dragged along behind them leaving a path in the snow.

Emma ducked behind one of the toppled stone statues and watched. Who else would be within the castle walls? A looter, or worse? She considered turning back but then she felt that strange force tugging at her again, urging her to follow after the stranger. 

She slipped from her hiding place and half ran down the row of hedges doing her best to stay hidden as she followed, gaining on the intruder.

The figure paused at the entrance to the old rose garden, a gloved hand resting on the gate. Emma slowed staying in the shadow of a twisted oak. From this distance she could see the intricate silver embroidery on the thick black velvet coat, a sign that this was no street urchin from the wrong side of the river. The figure swept their hand over the lock the air shimmering like purple starlight and the gate clicked open.

_ Magic _ .

Emma was moving before she had even made the decision. “Hey!” she called running after the intruder, her feet slipping on the slick snow. She caught up just inside the garden sliding to a stop just as the person turned lowering their hood.

Her black hair fell to her shoulders and framed her pale face. Her beauty and expression as cold and harsh as the winter around them, but in her eyes burned a deadly fire.

“Well, I see I’m not the only ghost here tonight,” the woman said mildly, her gaze pinning Emma in place.

“Who are you? I saw you do magic,” Emma said waving toward the gate.

The woman didn’t look remotely intimidated and her eyes seemed to dissect Emma as they moved over her. Emma felt as if her every fault and imperfection was suddenly visible and she grappled for her usual armor even as she felt it cracking beneath the weight of her scrutiny.

“And you what, you’re going to report me?” she drawled sounding supremely bored by this exchange. “The blackguards don’t run this land anymore.”

“I know that,” Emma said bristling. She had defeated Gold herself after all.

The corner of the woman’s lips tipped up in a smirk. “I suppose you would, Princess.”

Emma gaped, realizing this woman knew exactly who she was.

“I’m Regina,” she said, not raising a hand or any display of cordial greeting. Emma felt her stomach drop as she remembered the reports of the sorceress from the Dark Palace. “I’m the Queen here, and you’re trespassing.”

Emma swallowed, her mouth closing with a click. She was definitely out of her depth and suddenly aware of how alone she was. She chanced a glance behind her, but August was nowhere close, still faithfully waiting beyond the tall outer walls. A tendril of fear slithered around her heart. 

“You’re not the Queen,” Emma said hoping she sounded braver than she felt.

“Tell me, Emma,” Regina said advancing a step closer, “Did you and your parents really think you could come back here and the people would give you control just like that? It takes more than a name to rule a country.”

Regina curled her hand, a wisp of smoke swirling through her fingers. “It takes power. And it takes will. Without either you cannot take back what your family so carelessly lost. You are nothing here anymore.”

There was condescension in her tone that sparked something in Emma. She was not a child and she had not gone through hell to be brushed aside by an intruder.

“Even when I was orphaned and didn’t know who I really was, I was never nothing,” Emma said through her teeth.

She could feel her magic waking within her spurred on by her anger. It crept up her spine and crackled just under her skin. It felt like a wildfire burning through her, rebellious and dangerous, eclipsing every other emotion. She tried to push it back. 

Regina tilted her head a little watching her, a wicked glint in her gaze. “Prove it.”

Emma knew she was egging her on. Regina wanted to see her lose control. Rationally Emma knew she probably wasn’t a match for Regina. But fear and defiance churned inside her stronger than reason, and she could sense the dim shine on her skin as her power flared.

Regina grinned in victory. Emma had the sense she knew exactly the struggle raging within her.

“No,” Emma said more a command to herself than an answer to Regina. She wouldn’t be manipulated. She took a deep breath and concentrated on pushing back on her magic, shoving it back within her.

When Emma looked up Regina was still watching her carefully. 

“Your magic drew you here didn’t it?” she asked reaching to sweep off one of her gloves and holding her hand out to Emma.

Emma stared at it. Her magic was still simmering within her making her feel a little drunk or like she was trapped underwater watching this happen from beneath the surface. “What?”

“Like calls to like. Magic pulls at other magic like a magnet. You felt it didn’t you?” Regina said motioning for Emma to take her hand. 

Emma didn’t move.

“We’re not as different as you think. Aren’t you curious?” Regina asked her dark eyes meeting Emma’s. “I can feel it too.”

Emma looked at her outstretched hand again. “You can?” she asked.

“Your magic is flooding off you, struggling for release.” Regina shrugged. “I couldn’t control my magic either before I was trained.”

That made Emma pause. 

“Trained?” she repeated.

Regina plucked a frozen blossom from the rosebush beside them. The petals were blackened from the cold. She ran a finger along the folded edges. “What you want to grow strong you must first cut down to the root.”

Cryptic. And yet Emma had never met anyone else with magic. All records of it had been destroyed. She had begun to think she was totally alone, drowning.

And now she was being thrown a lifeline.

“Magic is powerful,” Regina continued.

The rose in Regina’s hand started to grow brighter, the dying edges strengthening and becoming young again. Emma stared at the suddenly deep red blossom in Regina’s palm.

“But magic always comes with a price.”

The rose suddenly withered and turned to ash, crumbling and blowing away.

“You’ve done quite a lot of magic recently haven’t you?” Regina said brushing the last bits of ash from her hands. “That price must be paid. It always must be paid.”

Emma looked from Regina to the black embers on the white snow. She remembered the ash in the forest, hundreds of trees burned away to nothing.  _ The price must be paid. _

“Can you help me?” she whispered. Her mother would have frowned at her for begging. Killian would have dragged her back from making any deals with a known enemy. Look where that had gotten her before. But they weren’t here now, and they didn’t understand. Not the way Regina could.

Regina seemed to consider with a wicked glint in her eyes before turning and walking back toward the castle.

“Follow me,” Regina called over her shoulder. She didn’t look back but seemed to know Emma would fall into step behind her.

Emma searched within herself for some sense of danger or regret as she trailed after Regina two steps behind. And maybe it was foolish, naive, but all she felt was relief and hope that maybe she would find an answer to help control her magic and keep everyone safe.

They ended up in a stateroom in the north tower of the castle. Emma felt drawn to the window on the far wall. The stained glass window cracked open and the cool winter air making the flame of the candle on the side table flutter. Emma looked out at the castle walls and the city beyond. This view was slightly different than what she remembered as a girl, this side of the castle had been used only for guests. She wondered if Regina had known that.

“Does it feel strange to be back here?” Regina asked making Emma turn from the window.

Her eyes traced the stone walls pausing on Regina’s things in the room, objects she had never seen before. It seemed Regina had moved in, making good on her claim that she was Queen. 

“It’s not the same,” Emma admitted.

Regina’s expression was unreadable. “That’s not a bad thing.”

Regina gathered a few things on the table at the center of the room. A candle, a small silver bell, a large leather bound book in a strange language, an apple.

“Magic is emotion made real. It’s the tangible reflection of what is inside,” she said, apparently starting a lesson right away.

Emma listened carefully, damn the risks, she needed this help.

Regina moved closer and once again held out her hand and this time she obeyed and pressed her palm to Regina’s.

“Magic is joy, love, kindness, like fire and light,” she said and Emma’s skin shimmered and warmed. 

“But it is also ice and darkness. It is hate, anger, fear, and hurt.” Regina’s touch was at once freezing against her, overwhelming the heat within Emma. The cold snaked down her arm making her gasp and shiver as she jerked away.

Regina smiled at Emma’s weakness. “The key is control.”

“How do you control it?” Emma asked flexing her fingers as she tried to shake off the chill lingering there.

“You have to find something that grounds you, something true to you, something that makes you remember who you truly are.”

Emma tried to pinpoint what grounded her. What brought her back to herself. At once she thought of Killian.

“Not a person,” Regina said, seeming to read her mind.

“What?” 

“It can’t be a person. You need to find something within you to center yourself on. You need to find this strength within yourself. Concentrate on the feeling you feel with the person not the person themselves.”

Emma closed her eyes and imagined Killian here with her. She felt a spark of excitement in her stomach, a feeling of safety, and the relaxing sense of home. She focused on that feeling, trying to lock it in her mind so she could find it later when she needed it again.

Already she felt her magic quieting, settling within her. It was working.

She thought of other things that put her at ease. The sight of her favorite wildflowers, the smell of warm cocoa, the sound of waves on the shore.

“Emma!” a voice called echoing down the stone hallway.

Her eyes flew open and she turned to the door just as it burst open and August entered. He looked around the room taking in Emma just a few yards away from Regina. He drew his sword leveling it at Regina.

“Stay back,” he growled at Regina. She rolled her eyes at his valor.

“You’re safe now, Princess.” August motioned for Emma to move toward the door. “Come with me.”

Emma hesitated looking back at Regina. There was so much more she needed to know.

“Remember what I said,” she said to Emma. “And next time leave your watchdog at home.”

August’s expression darkened. “There won’t be a next time,” he said firmly and he took hold of Emma’s arm pulling her a step.

“It’s fine, August, I’m not in danger,” Emma said.

He looked taken aback at her words. “Emma, you don’t understand what she is.”

The words rang in her ears,  _ what _ she is. Regina gave her a loaded look, but she didn’t say anything. And then Emma was being pulled from the room.

A few steps down the hall she jerked out of his grip. “I’m capable of walking on my own,” she said icily. “I don’t need your protection.”

He looked at her in disbelief. “You disappeared. I thought you might be in danger. What am I supposed to think when I find you with  _ her _ .”

Emma tried to see it from his perspective. She had walked off and been found in the company of the Dark Sorceress. But it was clear to her that Regina was simply misunderstood, everyone’s fear of magic had poisoned their perception of her. If Emma didn’t get help how long would it be before the public’s opinion turned on her too.  _ Dangerous _ , they already whispered behind her back.

August was walking stonily beside her and she decided it wasn’t worth a fight and together they made their way silently back to the lake.

~*~

Killian sat in the window seat off the main hall looking out at the moonlight shimmering off the surface of the lake. He had thought that by waiting here it would be easy for Emma to find him when she returned. But even after the commotion and rumors of her return swept through the palace over an hour ago, she still hadn’t tried to find him. 

He wondered if she was avoiding him, but also knew with Emma it was usually best to give her a little space and not push her. A little more of the doubt from the afternoon crept over him. Maybe she liked August’s presence better. They were old friends after all, and it was obvious that whatever childhood crush August had harbored for Emma had never disappeared.

He was saved from brooding any longer when a figure slipped into the dim hallway moving toward him. Killian straightened up thinking it might finally be Emma. The person slowed when they noticed him in the window.

“Killian?” Ruby’s voice said from beneath the hood of her cloak.

“Ruby?”

“What are you doing still up?” she asked him coming closer and pushing off her hood.

“I’m waiting for Emma,” he said.

Ruby glanced back up the staircase the way she had come. Toward the bedrooms. “Emma came back a while ago.”

She must have seen Killian’s small grimace because she hastily added, “I think she went straight to bed.”

Killian could hear the lie but he wasn’t going to call her on it. Instead he asked, “Where are you off to so late?”

For a split second Ruby looked guilty chewing at her lip. He wasn’t sure why she was hesitating. “August and Emma went into the city today.”

He had suspected as much. There were only so many places you could take a walk around the lake and none of them took 6 hours. Apparently August wasn’t nearly as wary of the city as he had made it seem. Then again he knew Emma could be charming when she wanted something.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re sneaking out in the middle of the night,” he observed.

Her eyes flashed. “Just drop it, Killian.”

Killian sat up pushing off the seat. “What’s going on? Look, I’m sorry I lost my head with Peter. It won’t happen again.”

She looked confused. “I’m not mad about this afternoon,” she told him. “Frankly, Peter deserved it. If I could have, I probably would have tried to punch him too.”

Killian bit back a smile. He almost wished he’d gotten to see that.

Ruby blew out a breath. “It’s the Queen-” she broke off seeming to try to find the right words, her hand moving through the air as if she might grab them out of the space between them. “They finally found a useful job for me.”

Killian frowned. “You’re on the council, you already have a job,” he said.

Ruby slowly raised an eyebrow. A questioning look as if to ask if he really believed that was a useful job for her. It made him feel suddenly left out of everyone’s secrets.

“What are you saying?” he asked her. It wasn’t like Ruby, she was very direct, usually to a fault.

“They want me to gather information on our opposition,” she told him.

“A spy?”

She nodded. “I thought I’d start with the Lost Boys. Infiltrate their ranks. It was the Queen’s idea but it makes sense.”

“No,” he said immediately. “I think we burned that bridge.”

She shook her head holding his gaze. “No, Killian,  _ you _ burned that bridge. That’s why I’m not asking you to come with me. Alone, I still have a chance.”

“I don’t trust Peter, he’s dangerous,” he said.

She barked out a laugh. “Oh, yes, well, keenly spotted. I don’t trust him either, Killian. But we need to know more about his operation and how much power the Lost Boys have.”

“What about Robin? Can’t he get us that information. You wouldn’t have to go.”

She straightened her cloak not quite meeting his eyes. “I have to do this. I want to.”

His jaw clenched but he didn’t argue. Ruby was smart and capable and too valuable a resource for them not to use, but not going with her felt wrong on a fundamental level. They were a pair, perfectly matched, years spent learning to cover each other’s blind spots. Separated they were vulnerable, armorless, exposed. 

She took a step to leave but he reached out and stopped her because there was one last thing. 

“Ruby, what he said… about choosing Emma. He’s an ass.”

She met his gaze. “It was said to drive a wedge between us. He knows we’re a threat. There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m not going to make you choose.”

He nodded and dropped his hand from her.

“Be safe,” he told her, because he wasn’t going to try to choose for her either. If this was what she wanted to do, what she felt she needed to do, then he wouldn’t stop her.

“I’ll see you later,” she said and she slipped toward the front door and disappeared into the dark night beyond. 


	4. Love is a River

Emma picked at the muffin in her hands as she watched the men unload the wagons outside the palace. A train had arrived two days ago in Steveston just as the storm clouds had started to build. All of their things brought to them just as the air turned even colder. **  
**

She shivered against the winter air that blew in through the wide open front doors. Snowflakes floated lazily in after heavy boots and slowly melted on the cold marble floor. She watched the piles of boxes in the entryway grow with mixed feelings.

It had been two days since she’d gone to the city with August, and it had shaken loose a storm of memories that still hadn’t completely settled. Seeing the city again had made everything feel real. Looking at those streets and buildings with new eyes, it felt so different than it had just a few months ago when she had arrived, alone, and desperate to leave. Now she wasn’t running. This was the place they were fighting for, broken and lost in the same ways she was. Struggling.

And yet she had also found a spark of hope there. She knew now there was a way she could learn to control her magic. Someone to help her protect everyone she cared about. She smiled around a bite of muffin. 

A warm weight of soft fabric settled over her shoulders as someone placed a jacket there protecting her against the cold. A small and welcome gesture. She pulled the coat a little closer, enjoying the comfort before turning toward the person who brought it.

“August,” she said in surprise. “I didn’t expect-”

She tried to ignore the sinking in her heart at the realization she had hoped it was Killian, that maybe it was a sign he had forgiven her.

“You looked cold standing here alone,” August said.

“Alone?” she repeated glancing at all the people all around them. “I’m hardly ever alone now.”

She saw him take in the bustle in the entryway, the looks sent at the two of them together. The way they always watched her, waiting, for some success or disaster, she wasn’t sure which anymore. The din of her new life.

“You know what i mean,” he said.

He meant Ruby and Killian. Ruby had gone to the Lost Boys, and Killian was giving her space. She knew he was upset that she had gone to the city with August. If she were being truthful, she knew she had been avoiding him too. 

“I’m fine,” she told him, as if saying it out loud would will it to be true. “We’re fine.”

He watched her for a moment before speaking. “Good. I wasn’t going to leave you here without any friends.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “You’re leaving?”

He nodded. “I’m leading the envoy to Lydgate Island. We need to secure the prison.”

She heard the words he didn’t say, _we need to secure Gold_. The memories of him squeezed at her heart: his voice taunting her, the feeling of the amulet pulling at her, fear creeping up her spine. If Gold escaped...

“When do you leave?” she asked.

“An hour.”

So soon. She thought of the map they had laid out in the library a few nights ago, the path south toward the sea and the strait of rough water to the rocky outcropping of Lydgate Island. It wouldn’t be an easy journey.

“How long will you be there?” she asked him.

His sad expression was answer enough. She frowned as she watched him, wondering if she would see him again once he left. Drifting out her life again.

“We all have our parts to play,” he said and his eyes met hers and held. “I need to protect Misthaven from him.”

The way he said it made it clear that he was going there to protect something, _someone_ , more specific. It hung there, unspoken. That loyalty that never faded. The words he wouldn't say. 

She slid his coat off, the cold air making her miss it instantly. She carefully, slowly, folded it and pressed it back into his hands. “Thank you,” she said hoping he would understand.

He took it and then reached around to pull a pistol from his belt and held it out to her. An offering. A reminder of the danger that stood before them. 

“I don’t want that,” she said, stepping back. 

She remembered the train leaving Misthaven, the cold steel of a different pistol in her hands, taking aim at the blackguards chasing after them from the forest. She shivered at the memory. The sight of Killian’s wound, his blood dried on her fingers.

“I know you can take care of yourself,” he said, “but I need to know you’re safe.”

Emma considered his words for a moment before she took the pistol, feeling its weight. Her fingers tightened on the handle. Muscle memory, muscles she had never wanted to develop.

“Goodbye, Princess,” he murmured and pulled her gently into a warm hug.

She held him tightly, silently wishing him strength and luck on his journey. Their paths splitting again, their stories tangled but not quite connected.

“Morning, Emma. August,” Killian said from beside them, startling her.

They broke apart and she swung around in surprise, she hadn’t heard him approaching. 

Killian’s expression was unreadable, his gaze locked on August even as he gently pushed the barrel of the pistol in her hand away from where it had been pointing absently at him when she turned.

“I was just leaving,” August said with one last look at Emma before he turned away from them.

Killian’s eyes followed him until he left the room before turning to her. 

“You could be nicer,” she scolded him, tucking away the pistol. “He’s on our side. We’re old friends,” she said.

He nodded. “Friends.” It sounded cynical.

Emma rolled her eyes, she knew that look. “Now’s not the time to be jealous, Killian.”

He didn’t respond. That irked her even more.

“I don’t get jealous of you and Ruby,” she pointed out.

Killian blinked. “Ruby is family,” he told her as though it were obvious. “He doesn’t look at you like he sees you as a sister.”

She shook off his comment, she wasn’t going to argue with him. Not over August. Not when he was leaving and there was nothing more to say. Not when there was so much the two of them needed to say instead. Everything they had been avoiding. She looked at him across the distance that had formed between them the last few days. 

“Why are you here?” she asked him.

His eyes widened slightly and she could have slapped herself hearing how her words sounded. He pulled back slightly, adding again to that distance.

Whatever she had expected or hoped his answer might be, it wasn’t the words that followed. “The Queen wants you to get ready. You’re heading into the city again today.”

“The city?” she asked. “Why?”

“To distribute the supplies and food from the train directly to the people.”

She glanced at the stacks of crates in the entryway.

“A publicity stunt?” she guessed. 

Killian frowned. “No. To help them, Emma. That’s the reason we’re here, isn’t it?”

Shame burned through her. She was still adjusting her perspective. She had been skeptical of authority for so long that sometimes it was hard to remember that not everything was a trick. She wondered how many of the people in the city would react the same way she had. Jaded. Betrayed too many times.

She looked at Killian, someone who struggled for everything he had. Who was more used to losing what he earned. And yet here he was, still able to see the good around them, to believe in a better future. 

“Of course,” she said. “When are we leaving?”

He looked almost guilty for a moment. “I’m not going with you, Emma,” he said.

Dread twisted her stomach making her feel faintly sick. She knew she had allowed this tension between them to fester but never had she meant to push him away in a meaningful way. Panic rose up within her. 

“What?” The word came out a little broken. “I need you.”

He shook his head. “I can’t be seen with your family, Emma. There are already too many rumors. If we want to maintain any cover for me, or more importantly Ruby, about our loyalties, then I can’t stand in front of a crowd by your side and declare allegiance like that.”

She took a breath trying to calm herself. What he said made sense, he was thinking strategically. Still the thought of facing so many people and being the princess they wanted without him almost brought her to her knees.

“What if they didn’t see you with us?” she asked slowly.

He tilted his head, not understanding

“Follow after us, join the crowd, come with the guards. I don’t care how, but I want you to be there.”

He ran a hand through his hair before letting out a sigh and nodding. He didn’t look glad for an excuse to go with her, he looked almost defeated. “Aye, love,” he said at last. “I can do that.”

It didn’t completely ease her worry or feel like a victory. Not when they were being twisted and pulled by loyalties and duties. Not when it felt like a chore or a gamble for him to follow her. Were there forces stronger than them that would tear them apart no matter how much they loved each other? Was their love only one that survived in quiet times and gentle hours?

She opened her mouth to speak, an olive branch, the words she hadn’t said for days on the tip of her tongue. They just needed to talk, a moment to themselves as everything swirled around them.

“Princess Emma,” a lady’s maid said appearing at her side. “You’re needed upstairs.”

Emma blinked at the girl, needing just another minute. But when she looked back at Killian she knew the moment had slipped away.

She was herded toward the stairs to prepare for the day, away from Killian. When she glanced back at the landing he was already gone.

Her mother was waiting for her in her room. Directing the others as the trunks of Emma’s things were unpacked, overwhelming her space with tulle and embroidery, gold and sparkle. Pieces of a life she hardly knew.

“There you are,” her mother said, coming over to pull her close. Her smile as she watched everything get unpacked was almost contagious. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“These are all mine?” Emma asked looking at the armoire already bursting.

Her mother just squeezed her arm, “Of course. Come on, we need to find one for you to wear today.”

Emma sat on the bed as she watched her mother flit between the fine gowns. Her fingers trailing down the fabric and straightening out long trains. This one would bring out the green of her eyes, that one would flatter her figure. 

Emma looked around feeling a bit lost. It was like trying to pass an exam after missing all the lessons.

“I’m not sure we can show up in intricate ball gowns,” Emma said at last. “Most of the people there are living off nearly nothing. Won’t it seem... uncaring?”

Her mother set down the dress that had been cradled in her arms. “It’s not uncaring. Today we are going to bring hope, because I love this kingdom and we have come back to see beyond the despair to what it could be again.”

Emma glanced away, looking at the dress lying beside her. Tried to see it through her mother’s eyes. A way to return to a time that had been better. Her family getting back everything it had lost. 

This dress was simpler, pale blue with embroidered silver flowers cascading down to the floor. “What about this one?” she suggested.

Her mother’s face lit up, pleased Emma seemed to be taking an active interest. “It’s perfect.” 

Emma had the feeling her mother would have said that about anything Emma had picked. Sometimes Emma wasn’t sure what parental love or approval was meant to feel like. Was it a desperate attempt at any connection after so long apart or was it genuine?

But there was something that felt right about letting her mother help her fasten the small buttons at the back of the dress. A vague memory of days long ago. For a moment she felt like this was something mothers and daughters were meant to do. For a moment she felt that sense of family.

Emma’s fingers played at the delicate threads in the flowers. It must have taken countless hours by a steady experienced hand. And now it was hers to wear. She wondered if it had been made with her in mind, or if it was something they were all hoping would fit. Something fit for a princess. 

She stepped over the mirror by the window. She thought of the gown she’d worn to the ball in Glowerhaven, when she’d fought Gold. She remembered how lost she had felt buried under all that fabric. This reflection looking back at her felt more familiar. Maybe she could do this, one step at a time.

She waved off the shining jewels they offered her. One _small_ step at a time. She was still getting used to the weight of it all even without the added weight of diamonds and gems. She knew she would only get there by keeping in touch with who she was. And a part of her would always be that orphan girl. Two worlds in one person. Two lives coming together. 

Before she felt ready Emma had joined her parents at their place in front of the wagons. She looked back at the group of people who would follow them, seeing no sign of Killian. There were more faces than she had expected. She kept a close eye on them as they walked away from the palace toward the city, watching for any unease on their faces, any wavering of their conviction, any hint of a lie in their intentions. Any signs of danger.

But as they entered the city her attention slipped to her parents, curious what their reaction would be. She remembered the feeling of the city when she had first seen it. The way the buildings had pressed in around her, the hopelessness that permeated from all sides.

The city seemed to hold its breath as they breached its limits. The streets quiet, empty, people pulling back, hiding from the approaching mass, as if they were an invading army. 

She watched her mother as her eyes moved over the buildings, and how they rested on the faces peering hesitantly from dirty and broken windows. Shuttered behind their barriers, wary. Maybe they had been wrong, maybe there was no hope for them to regain the favor of these people who had learned over the years to hide and ignore the horrors just outside their doors to survive.

Emma sensed more than heard the sound from the shadowy corner of a collapsed storefront. She paused, wary of some threat. Everyone else stopped and followed her gaze, a few confused whispers echoed behind her. But instead of some hulking monster, a small shape stepped from the shadows. 

It was a young girl, her apron spotted and torn, her hair tangled from the wind. Emma knew the look of someone who hadn’t slept tucked warmly in a bed. How many times had she looked like that? How many people over the years had looked away as if she wasn’t there, wasn’t their concern. But now she stood frozen in place watching the girl approach curiously.

Her mother broke away from the group moving toward the girl, kneeling down, her skirts folding onto the dirt and stones on the street. She beckoned her closer. There was something so trusting in the motion. Every hard lesson Emma had learned on the streets screamed at her to haul her mother back. The weight of the pistol hidden in her cloak burned against her as the girl moved closer.

A guard appeared at Emma’s side moving to assist the Queen. He was not brandishing a weapon but instead held a small loaf of bread from their supplies.The Queen offered him a smile in thanks as she took it and held it out to the girl.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

The girl’s eyes locked on the bread and she half ran the last few steps grabbing the loaf. She bit off a big chunk, a smile spreading over her lips.

“What’s your name?” the Queen asked the girl. Her voice was gentle, mothering in the way Emma had missed out on for so many years. She blinked looking away, a tightness in her chest.

The girl looked from the Queen to the group behind her. Taking in their clothes, the wagons. “Paige,” the girl answered softly.

The Queen beamed at the small girl. “Hi, Paige,” she said. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

Paige gave another shy smile and took another bite of the bread.

Emma couldn’t help but think her mother was good at this. Where Emma had seen only a possible threat her mother had seen the truth. Not someone to fear but someone to help. Was this who she had been when she had ruled Misthaven? Was this why people had loved them? Was this why they were so sure the people would follow them again?

“Paige, can you do something for me?” The Queen asked.

Paige nodded slowly.

“Go and tell your family, your friends, and anyone you come across that the King and Queen are in the city and they’ve brought food and supplies for anyone who needs it.”

Paige’s eyes widened rising to look at the wagons stacked high with crates.

“Those are full of food?” she asked.

“Yes, there’s lots of food for everyone.”

She hardly needed any more encouraging. Paige turned and rushed up the street and out of view. 

It wasn’t long before the faces hidden behind windows and shutters became people stepping out into the street to see what was happening. To confirm the rumors. And their numbers swelled as they made their way through the city until like a strong current they flowed through the streets gaining momentum.

~*~

Ruby watched the sun rise through the morning. The way the sky had turned from blue to gray to rose and then to gold. The light shining off the metal gutters and shimmering on the canals. Before the city woke up and the bustle started there was a moment when the city was crowned in light and gleamed like treasure. And then the sun rose fully and showed the city for what it really was, the light exposing all the darkness, the fairytale burned away.

She shifted her position, the slate roof beneath her uncomfortable after hours tucked up on top of the old central train station. From here she could see the main avenues and canals. Even the silent rails stretched out from where she sat in every direction. She watched over the city like a spider at the center of a web, waiting for something to fall into her trap.

It had been two days of prowling dark corners and crouched between buildings relearning the pulse of her city. The mundane goings on, stolen phrases of a hundred passing conversations, cross sections of a thousand people’s lives. From this perch and vantage point she took in everything. 

It had been two days since she had gone back to the Breaker Street Factory and Peter’s knowing smile and this new assignment. Sentry duty. Perhaps a dull and unpleasant job, but she knew this task was a test of her loyalties and an assessment of her skills. It was what she would have done to test a new recruit. Besides, she didn’t mind it so much, it beat a council meeting. Hadn’t she been wishing for just this not long ago?

“So, I’m not the only person who knows about this spot,” a voice drawled from the shadows.

Ruby jumped to her feet drawing her dagger as a figure moved from behind one of the gargoyles she had thought were her only company up here.

“Who are you?” Ruby asked wanting some clue as to how this person got up on the ledge without her noticing. Maybe she wasn’t as good at this sentry thing as she had thought.

The figure stepped further out of the shadow, light falling on a slim figure in woven armor. Her black hair lifted off her shoulders from the breeze. Her dark eyes cool as she looked at Ruby.

“Peter sent me,” she said.

Ruby glanced around almost expecting to see others, perhaps a whole group sent to collect her. But they were alone on the roof.

“Is he calling me back?” Ruby asked.

The newcomer shifted into a casual pose but her expression remained hard. “No,” she said. “He sent me to follow you and watch what you did.”

“He thinks I’m going to betray him.”

It made sense. Peter was covering himself. This was a test with multiple layers. He wanted to be sure of her allegiance. He had made it quite clear when they had met that he knew she had ties to the royal family. He certainly seemed to know about Killian and Emma. Her only play had been to try to convince Peter that she was disenchanted with all of them. That she wanted to strike off on her own.

The woman shrugged before moving with sure feet over the sloping roof. She eased down beside Ruby, her dark hair shining in the sun. Ruby’s gaze traced over her face, her sharp eyes.

“Why are you telling me this?” Ruby asked.

She stared out at the city before sighing.

“Because I know who you are Ruby Lucas. And I don’t think you are loyal to the Lost Boys.” Ruby opened her mouth to make some sort of obligatory protest but she continued. “And that makes you my best chance at an ally.”

Ruby’s mouth snapped shut in surprise. “Who _are_ you?” she asked again.

“My name’s Mulan,” she said, turning to face her. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Ruby wasn’t sure there was anything she could do about it anyway. After all Mulan had tracked her, scaled the side of a building after her, and knew her secrets. She was clearly skilled. That and the large sword strapped to her back. Ruby eyed it warily. If the armor was any indication she probably knew how to use it too.

Mulan noticed Ruby’s attention on the sword. She smiled and it transformed her, softening her fierce demeanor. If Peter had sent her as a trap Ruby was suddenly afraid of just how adept an opponent he might be because she could imagine herself falling willingly into this one if she let her guard down.

“Cursebreaker,” Mulan told her.

Ruby stared at her blankly.

“The sword,” she clarified.Trying to gain a little of Ruby’s trust with information. “It’s called Cursebreaker. It can cut through anything, any material and any magical enchantment. It’s been in my family for generations.”

Ruby traced the intricate engravings on the hilt, a mix of images of dragons and symbols in a language she didn’t know. It was a work of art, its history carved into it. It must have been valuable. And they had entrusted it to Mulan. That kind of faith told her a lot about Mulan.

“I don’t have any family heirlooms left, everything was lost in the revolt,” Ruby said. Though the way her grandmother had tutted about her clumsiness she probably wouldn’t have been given any even if she’d had the chance.

Mulan looked down at the streets below them. “You grew up here?” she asked.

“I thought you said you knew who I was,” Ruby challenged.

Mulan met her gaze. “I heard about the outlaw. I didn't know about before.”

The way she said it made Ruby curious what Mulan thought of her. _Outlaw_. It was a disapproving word, but her tone hadn’t been.

Some instinct told her to trust Mulan, sensed a similar heart looking back at her.

“My grandmother was a close friend of the Queen,” Ruby told her.

“That’s why you’re with the royals now?” she asked.

“A lot has happened since my grandmother died,” she said carefully. Not a confirmation and not a denial.

“And you chose to fight back,” Mulan said looking steadily at her. “That is very brave.”

Ruby blushed, being called brave by someone in armor felt like a big compliment.

“I’m guessing you’re something of a fighter too,” Ruby said trying to turn the conversation off of her to safer territory.

Mulan tugged at the gauntlets on her wrists. “The world doesn’t always lead you down the path you dreamed of.”

“What did you dream of doing?” Ruby asked, surprised by how much she wanted to know the answer, some insight into who she was.

Mulan leaned back a little, looking up at the sky. “I dreamed of making my family proud.”

“Are they not proud of you?” She thought again of the sword she carried.

Mulan met Ruby’s look. “I don’t know,” she said.

It wasn’t what she’d expected her to say.

“Where are they?”

Mulan’s expression darkened. “They’re gone.”

Ruby looked away. “Orphans of the revolution,” she murmured, Peter’s words. “I see why the Lost Boys recruited you.”

“There are a lot of reasons people join the Lost Boys,” Mulan said. Ruby perked up, this was what she’d said they needed to talk about.

“Why did you join then?” Ruby asked.

Mulan’s reply was interrupted by excited shouts from down on the streets. They both looked down at the commotion, people moving out into the streets beckoning others to follow, until at last the royal banners and guards turned down the avenue. The procession made its way over the wide stone bridge that spanned the main canal headed for the heart of the city.

Ruby stood up from her hiding place and slid to the edge of the roof for a better view of the square where the royals had come to a stop. She could just make out the gold shine of Emma’s hair in the center. A roar went up from the crowd as a large crate from one of the wagons was pried open and sacks of grain were pulled out and passed to the people there. She watched a small girl with curling brown hair scurry across the bridge to the edge of the crowd intent on seeing what was going on. Ruby instantly felt like she was looking back through the years at a younger version of herself. She even found herself scanning the surrounding people for a small Killian darting in between the crowd probably picking pockets.

“You have to tell Peter,” Mulan said quietly beside her.

Ruby looked at her, expecting to see judgement, waiting to see if she would go inform the Lost Boys. But there was only sadness. Like she understood exactly the position this put Ruby in. As if she had walked that very line before. Duty and betrayal.

She wondered what Mulan had traded to get into Peter’s good graces. 

“I guess I’ll see you around,” Ruby said standing.

Mulan watched her from where she remained sitting. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

She said it like this exchange was some habit they had formed over years. For a moment it was easy to pretend Mulan was someone she had known all her life. Ruby bit back a small smile and turned away.

Ruby dropped out of her perch and made to head back for the Breaker Street Factory. A part of her hated walking away from where she knew her friends were, away from what felt safe and deeper into danger. Her thoughts spun as she walked the empty streets. Something about meeting Mulan had left her feeling disoriented, confused, like she’d heard a joke but hadn’t understood the punchline.

When she entered the abandoned factory she found Peter easily enough in his office atop the spiral staircase. Sitting at his desk beside a roaring fireplace looking out the windows at the city like a hawk watching for scurrying prey. 

“Ruby,” he said in greeting before turning around to face her. An unnerving display of just how much he knew of what was happening around him.

“The royal family has entered the city via the east gate and moved to the central square,” she told him without any preamble. “They’ve brought food for the people.”

Peter turned to her and leaned back in his chair seeming many years older than he looked. “How many guards did they have with them?” he asked her, watching her carefully.

She weighed how much information to give him without compromising the royals’ security measures. 

“Around twenty,” she told him, hedging on giving an exact number, but supplied him a little extra information so he wouldn’t notice, “They’re armed with swords and pistols.”

“Industrialist weapons?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Traditional.”

He sneered, a wicked light in his eyes. “Fitting,” he mused. “At least we have a definite advantage there.”

Ruby’s chest tightened at his words, though she wasn’t sure if it was because of the implication that the Lost Boys had the royals significantly outgunned or the way he seemed to be including Ruby in his ‘we’.

He reached into a compartment in the desk and pulled out a dusty bottle of triple distilled whiskey. He brushed the dust from the cap before opening it. Clearly he didn’t break this out often. She couldn’t help but feel a little honored when he pushed a glass toward her. She joined him as he took a large sip, enjoying the way the liquid burned down her throat.

A small comfort as her heart hammered in her chest under his watchful gaze.

“How will they leave the city?” he asked her

She frowned. “I don’t know, I came straight here to inform you.”

He took a sip of the whiskey and Ruby found herself copying him. “What would you have advised they do if they had asked you?”

She thought for a moment. Mapping the city in her mind, places she would have told them to avoid, the quickest routes. She took into account the number of people, the possibility the adoring public might follow them out.

“I’d tell them to follow the canal and circle back the way they came in.”

“But you don’t know the actual plan?” he pushed.

She shook her head. “It’s only a guess,” she told him.

He swirled the whiskey in his glass looking at it speculatively. “This isn’t an operation that is carried out on a whim. Gathering the supplies, intelligence, managing security. Surely they planned this at the council meetings,” he said.

She paused. He was right. This wasn’t the sort of thing you could have planned in the last day or two while she had been gone. And that meant they had discussed this while Ruby had been at the lakeside palace with them but they hadn’t included her. Ruby tried to ignore the sting. She took another sip of the whiskey.

“They wouldn’t leave something like this to chance,” Peter said, thinking aloud. “They probably tested the route, had someone case the area.”

He looked over at her. The question clear in his expression.

Ruby tried to remember if she had heard any mention of that happening, any mentions of people or guards leaving to go to the city since they arrived. Emma had been in the city with August. But August was leaving to Lydgate, they wouldn’t send away their source of intel. She tried to think if anyone else had been sent. And then her heart dropped. _Killian_.

She and Killian had gone to the city. The Queen had told them they were going ‘only to collect information.’ It seemed baldly obvious now. She remembered thinking Killian and the Queen seemed like they were hiding something. It all fit into place. Was he keeping secrets from her too? The thought cut deeper than she’d expected. She felt as if she’d been sliced open and her organs were falling out onto the floor as she helplessly watched.

“Maybe they don’t trust the council,” Peter said offhandedly but Ruby only heard _maybe they don’t trust you_.

There was a buzzing in her ears. She couldn’t focus. 

“They’d be right to be suspicious,” Ruby heard herself say as if she could dull the hurt of betrayal by striking back. “There’s more than a few council members who aren’t as loyal as the King and Queen think.”

Peter’s eyes flashed in the firelight flicking up from the glass in his hand.

He poured her another glass, she couldn’t remember finishing the first. She took another long sip. It seemed to help calm her. That burning rage settling into a glowing ember.

“They’re being reckless,” Ruby said, it felt good to finally say it. “They have no idea what they’re getting into. They think they can march in here and people will embrace them. As if nothing over the last thirteen years even happened.”

“There must be people on the council who have tried to warn them,” he prompted.

She shrugged. “I guess. But they’ve also surrounded themselves with people who think like they do. I suppose Emma is the best bet to make them understand. They will listen to her. Lord knows she has a good idea what this world is actually like.”

“I suppose their followers don’t trust Emma because she missed so many years of the training she was meant to have had to be princess,” he said.

Ruby shook her head with a bitter laugh. “Not exactly. I suspect a good portion of them would follow her, even over their loyalties to her parents.”

He took another sip of the whiskey as he pondered her words.

“I find loyalty is a tricky thing,” he told her thoughtfully. Like he was speaking to an old friend. “It is slowly earned and easily broken down. Too much pressure put on one person, too many lies, and suddenly it dissolves. I’ve had that problem in the Lost Boys. People I thought, I hoped, would rise to be top ranking members, important in our organization, and they let me down. I am much more careful who I confide in now.”

She looked up to meet his eyes, the steady way he was looking at her. The spark of hope in his eyes, as if maybe she was exactly who he had been looking for. 

~*~

Killian watched from the fringes of the crowd as people fawned over the royal family. Today the smiles he saw around him were real. People passed him clutching bags of grain and newly cobbled pairs of boots. They remarked to each other how good it was to have the royals back. 

It was going better than he’d dared to hope. His eyes were drawn once again to Emma. She shone at the center of the crowd, smiling brightly and shaking hands with anyone who came up to her. The crowd loved her, their beloved princess returned to them. The hero who had defeated Gold, the one who had saved them from the Industrialists. 

But as she hauled the large bags off the wagons beside the guards she didn’t seem so elite or intangible. Here she seemed like she belonged, one of the people who surrounded her. She could dress in elegant dresses, but he smiled as he thought how there would always be a bit of the scrappy girl from the streets in her. She wasn’t a delicate shrinking violet, she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, and that was exactly what the country needed.

A tall man pushed past him, knocking him back a step, and Killian might not have paid him any notice if not for the scowl on his face. So different from all the other faces around them that were beaming and delighted. Killian turned just in time to see the afternoon light glint off something in the man’s belt. It took a second before Killian realized what it was, an Industrialist pistol. He watched the man slink off, down one of the narrow streets off the square.

He looked around wildly for any sign they were under attack from Industrialist sympathizers. But there was no commotion, no uneasy faces in the crowd. No flashes of blackguards or black masks. He looked back just in time to see the man disappear around a corner, and he acted on instinct, turning away from the royals and the square and giving chase after the mysterious man.

He caught up to the man easily, keeping a safe distance as he trailed him through the city. At last they broke through the gridded city blocks to the docks. Killian paused. The area was emptier than he’d ever seen it. There were no airships docked, no workers bustling around, no raucous singing spilling from the row of taverns. This place had been the heart of Misthaven industry and trade. Now it decayed, empty and forgotten. It was another sure sign that the city was broken. 

He was struck by another thought: this was where he had first met Emma. Years ago, both of them living entirely different lives, neither of them knowing what dangers lay ahead. He remembered the sight of her, shining brilliantly as she stood against the blackguards. The old Misthaven going up in flames around them. It looked very different than it had that night.

Killian saw the mysterious man slip into the cracked doors of one the warehouses clustered by the docks. He sidled up the door peeking through the opening but the place seemed empty, no sound reaching him. His instincts warned him that this could be a trap, but he needed to know who the man was. If he posed any danger. Why he had that pistol.

Killian ducked inside, his eyes adjusting to the dim room. There were groups of dusty crates scattered about the room, pushed aside, forgotten. He took a few steps moving further into the cavernous room toward a flickering lantern at the far end of the room. 

Closer he could see the light was sitting on a table that had been fashioned into a workbench of some sort. Pliers and bolt cutters sat among gears and welding supplies. He looked around confused. The Industrialists hadn’t operated like this, they had centralized production in large factories, not a single workstation tucked forgotten into a warehouse.

“What are you doing here?” the man said appearing just to Killian’s left brandishing the very pistol that had caught his interest. “Answer or I’ll shoot you.”

“Hold on,” Killian said, holding up his hands. “I was following you.”

“Is that supposed to convince me _not_ to shoot you?” he growled.

Killian turned to him with his hands still raised. He seemed only a few years older than Killian but his hair was graying at his temples and his small dark eyes and slight frame gave him a slightly manic look. His hand was shaking as he held the gun at Killian.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he told the man.

“I have the gun, if anyone is getting hurt it’s you,” he retorted, giving the gun a shake for emphasis which was not as menacing as it was meant to be. Mostly it told Killian that the man didn’t have much experience with firearms, which did nothing to explain why he was in possession of an Industrialist gun.

“Easy,” Killian said, taking a step toward him raising his arms a little further. “Let’s start over, shall we? My name’s Killian Jones. Who are you?”

“Walsh,” the man said.

He watched skeptically as Killian slowly lowered his right hand toward him. With a moment’s hesitation, the man reached out to shake Killian’s hand. _Mistake two_ , Killian thought as he grasped the man’s hand, it would be only too easy to disarm him and pull the gun from his other hand now. But Killian simply shook his hand and stepped back, overpowering him and putting him on the defensive was not going to get him any answers. He sensed that letting Walsh believe he was in control would yield the best results.

“What is this place, Walsh?” Killian asked looking pointedly toward the workbench.

Walsh glanced from the bench and Killian to the gun and let it fall to his side. _Mistake three_. Clearly Walsh was not accustomed to dealing with unsavory people. 

“This is my workshop,” he answered.

Killian took quick stock of the room for anything else that might be a weapon, either one he could use or something that might activate against him. 

“What is it you make here?” he asked him, moving to run a finger down the edge of a set of intricate gears that looked like the locking mechanism of a complex safe.

“I invent things here,” Walsh said with a hint of pride in his voice. 

Killian turned to him. 

“I’m carrying on where the Industrialists left off,” Walsh continued.

Now they were finally arriving at it. 

“You’re an industrialist,” Killian said halfway between a statement and a question.

Walsh frowned. “The Industrialists are gone,” he said slowly in a way that sounded almost like pity, like he thought Killian might have been too thick to notice.

“Who do you work for then?” Killian asked.

“I work for the people,” he said. Killian waited but he didn’t elaborate.

“What do you make?” Killian asked again.

Walsh moved over to the bench straightening a few things and then wiping down the lock Killian had touched, cleaning off the spotless surface. “I make what is needed. That’s what true innovation is. That was what the Industrialists were doing, and now that they are gone I must continue. We can’t afford to let this much knowledge and progress be lost just because some man was defeated.”

Killian froze. For someone who couldn’t even hold a gun steady Walsh sure brushed off Gold’s existence like it had been nothing. It only added to the mystery and puzzle that only seemed more complicated with every small piece of information he provided.

“That is what innovation is all about: moving society forward,” Walsh continued. “It shouldn’t play to the whims of who is in political power at the moment. We can do things today we never even dreamed of ten years ago. We have access to manufacturing techniques that no other place in the world has. We have solved problems of transportation, sanitation, energy production, and medical care. We can’t lose those just because the Industrialists fell. Everyone has demonized them, but they did give us many things we never had before.”

Killian couldn’t deny there was some truth to his words. A perspective he had never considered before. But still his instincts warned him that Walsh’s free agent attitude made him too much of a wildcard to just leave uninvestigated.

“How many others are there, helping you?” Killian asked. He needed to assess the danger this kind of fringe group might be.

“Others?” Walsh asked, again looking like he thought Killian might be dimwitted. He gestured at the dark and empty warehouse. “You think there are so many left? That the engineers and inventors weren’t run off when Gold was defeated? You think the factories weren’t burned down? You think there are workshops hiding in every spare corner? You think there’s some weekly meeting I could attend? Maybe for tea or knitting circle? Perhaps we could start a cricket team, huh? You think I wouldn’t give anything for a sharp mind to collaborate with? To not be surrounded by weak, subservient, placated people who have no desire for progress?”

Killian worked to keep his expression unreadable as he felt a surge of indignation. This was the hubris and arrogance that had made Gold and the Industrialists unbearable. The way they could talk about helping the people and bettering society and then in the same breath insult and belittle the very people they claimed to champion. They cared only about seeing how far they could push science and the glory of discovery. They didn’t care about who was crushed to make it happen.

Walsh could wax poetic about innovation, but he could tell now that parts on the workbench were several pistols in various states of production. Walsh was making weapons.

“Who’s buying these?” Killian asked. 

Walsh half pushed one of the pistols under a rag before seeming to realize it was pointless. He didn’t bother looking sheepish.

“There’s always a buyer. Some will pay top price to be well outfitted.”

“The gangs?” Killian guessed.

“There are some who know the value of good craftsmanship,” he said. “The powerful gangs have been around longer than the Industrialists, older than the stones of the city and just as important to its structure. They were imbedded just as deeply with Gold as the Industrialist big wigs. And when the industrialists fell some ran but some adapted, blending into a new landscape. Wearing a new mask. It wasn’t hard to find buyers, hell, some found have been buying from me for years.”

“The Lost Boys?” Killian asked him point blank not bothering to veil his interest.

Walsh swelled with unmasked pride. “Peter has appreciated my work for some time. Now he contracts exclusively with me.”

Killian felt the words hit him like a punch to the gut. He had been blind not to see this coming. “You can produce enough weapons from this workbench for the entire gang?” Killian asked him.

“I’m very good at what I do,” Walsh told him.

 _Humble too_ , Killian thought. Walsh would likely be more than happy if Gold managed to escape imprisonment and rise again. Killian wondered again how many others like him there might be, biding their time in the shadows. He almost couldn’t believe it but he was actually glad for August, he only hoped he made it to Lydgate Island soon.

“So are you going to arrest me?” Walsh asked him.

“I’m not the police,” Killian said, he wondered for a moment when he had reached the point so far from who he had been just months ago that he could be mistaken for an officer.

“You are with the royals,” Walsh said, not quite a question or a statement. The mirror of his own accusation that Walsh was an Industrialist. An invisible line between them.

Killian smirked. “I’m not here to arrest anyone.”

Walsh looked him over one last time before he turned his back and sat at the workbench. “Then I’ll ask you to see yourself out. This is private property.”

Killian looked for a long moment at Walsh, back turned. Vulnerable. Unprotected. Completely engrossed in his work once again. His silhouette edged in golden light from the glowing lantern. 

He wondered for a second if he was making a mistake, not taking an easy opportunity, as he turned and walked away. Exiting the warehouse and leaving Walsh alone. The man determined to continue to change the world, but he was clinging to the past just as much as any of them.

He had to warn the others. 

On the streets the day was clouding over, promising snow. He had barely turned the corner from the warehouses when he ran right into someone. He stumbled back in surprise before he registered the person in front of him.

“Emma?” he looked around. “What are you doing here? Why are you alone? Where’s your family?”

“I came to find you,” she said looking over his shoulder toward the docks. “Where did you go?”

“Followed a possible threat,” he said gesturing towards the warehouses. “I need to find Robin. We need to get a warning to Ruby. I don’t think we can trust Peter, he has a connection to Gold, and she’s walked right into his trap.”

“Killian, you can’t blow her cover to tell her to be careful of the person she is spying on. I'm pretty sure she already knows that. Besides you can’t just go walking into Peter’s stronghold and ask to talk to her.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I need to find Robin. He’ll be able to pass a message to her from within the Lost Boys.”

Emma frowned. “But we don’t know where Robin will be.”

“Actually, I do.”

She considered that carefully, crossing her arms.

“Okay, I’ll come with you.”

He was surprised by her response. “No, Emma, not for this. It’s no place for a princess. You should go back with your family.”

“I’m going with you, Killian,” she said stubbornly. 

He sighed knowing she wouldn’t budge. He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Please,” she said, making him look up because she so rarely begged. “I want to help Ruby. She’s my friend. Being a princess can’t stop me from helping people I care about. I don’t want to be just a figurehead, a symbol for people to use how they want.”

He thought of the way her face had fallen when he had told her he couldn’t go with her this morning. That fear of abandonment that gripped her no matter how much he tried to assure her.

“Okay,” he said at last.

She looked relieved, like she hadn’t expected him to agree. “So, where are we going?” she asked him.

He watched her carefully as he told her, “The catacombs.” 

He enjoyed the stunned way her jaw dropped open before adding, “and you’re going to need a change of clothes.”

She looked down at her dress. “Who’s going to care what I’m wearing? The dead?”

He chuckled. “You’ve clearly never been to the catacombs,” he said, his eyes dancing with mischief.

“What does that mean?’ she asked him.

He just turned and beckoned her after him heading for shops up the street. “You’ll see.”

Killian led the way into a store tucked into a dingy corner, there was no window display, not even a sign advertising their wares. A rusted bell clacked roughly above them as he pushed open the door. 

The room beyond the door was dimly lit with old gas fixtures, their light a slight green color. And everywhere there were crowded and cluttered shelves, stacks of moldering books and piles of wrinkled clothes.

“Is that Killian Jones?” the old woman behind a warped counter said. “I hate to think what i’ve done to earn this visit.”

“Miss Agatha,” Killian said with warmth in his tone. “Does a fellow need a reason to visit a beautiful lady?”

The woman’s eyes slipped past Killian to where Emma was standing just inside the door. “Seems you already got a beautiful lady.”

Killian struggled to hold back a smile. “Agatha, this is Emma,” he said gesturing to where Emma was hovering behind him.

“I know who she is,” Agatha said looking her over. “The whole city is buzzing about it.”

“Right,” Killian said. Agatha was always quick to get down to business. “That’s actually why we’re here. We need something a little less conspicuous.”

They all looked at Emma’s embroidered dress.

Agatha huffed a laugh, the sound of an engine backfiring. “I never knew inconspicuous to be your style, Mr. Jones.”

“Times change,” Killian said with an easy smile.

Agatha looked between him and Emma again. “That they do. I see you’ve lost your usual shadow.”

Killian shrugged. “Ruby’s on official business at the moment.”

Agatha seemed to file away that information, not everything she sold was as tangible as metal or linen.

“Shame, that girl knows how to spend money.”

Killian stepped forward and dropped a small pile of coins on the counter. “She’s not the only one. I’m trusting this will buy discretion as well.”

Agatha scooped up the coins almost as soon as they hit the counter. “Don’t insult me, Killian. We’ve known each other long enough.”

“Agatha, you are a true gem,” he said.

She scoffed but it didn’t cover her small smile. “Stop flirting or your girl will get jealous,” she said with a wink, easing gingerly off her stool onto arthritic joints. “Come on, sweetheart. We’ll see what we’ve got that suits you. Follow me.”

Emma looked a little startled at being addressed and glanced to Killian who gave her a small encouraging nod. She followed Agatha around the counter along the racks of clothes.

Killian perused the shelves in the front of the store while he waited. Agatha’s had always been a place you might find anything. Usually at a good discount from the shops on the high street or the wide avenues at the center of the city. If you weren’t concerned with how the items got here or if the official tariffs had been paid or if the shipments logged with the authorities, then Agatha’s was perfect.

The shelves showed no sign of organization, antiques shoved beside cooking ware, hardware beside candles. You would be lost if you were looking for something specific. Here, you just happened across treasures, waiting for you even when you didn’t know you were looking. 

Agatha reappeared at the counter. “She’ll be a minute. She’s trying a few things.”

Killian nodded looking at a small metal box with an intricately carved keyhole. There was a note pasted to it that said _unable to open, key lost_. 

He stared at the metal box thinking of Walsh’s crowded bench. “Agatha,” he said. “Have you heard of anyone buying up old Industrialist parts.”

“Sure,” she said and he swung around in surprise. “Lots of folks are trying to get spare parts now that there won’t be any new production. Just the other day had some rich folks from the East Side going to every store trying to find a back up engine for their laundry washer. Guess they’re terrified they might have to wash clothes manually like the rest of us.”

Killian frowned. Maybe it was too much to hope it’d be easy to figure out how many Industrialist sympathizers were left.

“Will you let me know if someone comes looking for gun parts?” he asked her.

She put a hand on her hip tilting her head. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?” she laughed to herself. “Get trouble stuck to you like shit on a pig.”

Agatha, always delicate in her word choice. Closest thing he’d ever met to how Ruby described her grandmother. He thought they probably would have gotten along swimmingly, Granny and Agatha. 

“Don’t you go dragging that sweet girl into all that,” she said, her tone serious.

He heard Emma’s footsteps approaching. “Who says she’s not the one dragging me into it?” he responded.

Agatha shook her head pursing her lips. But before she could say anything else Emma appeared and he completely forgot about everything except the way her bodice skimmed her curves, tightly fastened with bronze buckles. Her skirt was patchwork but it hung on her like the finest silk. She looked like she’d be at home in the rowdy bars by the water making some steamboat captain fall in love with her. She looked like she was from the city, like this was her home. Like she belonged here.

“Well, that’s...” he trailed off, words escaping him, “much better.”

Emma walked toward him and he watched the sway of her hips, the swell of her breasts over the corset. _Gods above_. 

She nudged him playfully. “My eyes are up here, Jones.”

He blinked letting out a weak splutter. He didn’t even bother looking over at Agatha; he could only imagine her expression. 

“Come on, let’s go,” she said, her hand finding his arm. “Thank you, Agatha. Truly.”

“Mmhmm, you take care, dear,” she responded, and yeah she was definitely laughing at him.

Small flakes swirled in the air as they stepped back out onto the street. He took a deep breath the cold burning his lungs, cooling a little of the fire that had roared inside him. Much as he might have wanted to explore each and every layer of Emma’s new look he knew they had something more important to do.

“Follow me,” he said, leading her back towards the central canal. The lamps were beginning to flicker on, casting a warm glow to the buildings, a substitute for the sunset that was hidden behind the thick gray clouds. He thought of the winter solstice only a couple weeks ago and he wondered if there had been a celebration this year. If anyone had put out lanterns and holly wreaths in the chaos of the Industrialists fleeing Misthaven. Winter Solstice had always been his favorite holiday.

At last the street they were following ended at the canal. Its murky water lapping at the stone walls. Emma followed him as he ducked under the small bridge at the next cross street onto a narrow path along the edge of the water until they got to a small opening in the stones in the bridge’s supports.

“This leads to the catacombs?” Emma asked, looking a little warily at the dark tunnel.

“There’s multiple entrances throughout the city,” he told her. “These tunnels run all under the streets. Some say they go all the way to the castle.”

“They do.”

Killian looked over at her, surprised by her matter-of-fact tone.

She caught his glance before adding, “It’s how my family escaped the castle during the revolt”

He stared at her. It had been a common theory that the royals had been smuggled out through the tunnels. But Emma had never spoken about that night since her memories returned and it caught him off guard. 

“Come on,” he said and held out a hand guiding her the first step. “It’s okay.”

Emma took stilted cautious steps into the darkness. The sounds of the canal fading behind them.

“Do you have a light or something?” Emma whispered.

“Just a little farther,” he told her and sure enough when they turned a corner there ahead was a line of torches burning along the tunnel, out of sight from the hidden entrance but beckoning them on.

“Are they always here?” Emma asked

“Every night.” 

“How many people know about this place?” 

He knew she was asking questions because she was feeling out of her element. Nerves making her ramble. He remembered when she had stitched his shoulder, the words tumbling out of her to calm them both. He smiled at the memory of her touch.

“It’s one of the city’s secrets, but that doesn’t mean it’s a particularly well kept secret.”

They followed the torches through the maze of tunnels, the ground sloping up and down at times, occasionally sounds of dripping water could be heard leaking in from the canals overhead.

Finally the tunnel opened on a large cavern, a sunken chamber of the old catacombs. Already there was a large number of people gathered in the space. 

Across the crowd he could see the alcoves that were nestled in the walls and corners, bones scattered along the walls mixed with the rough stones all around them. Music hummed in a thumping rhythm. A pulse beating through the people. The flickering light flashed off metal buckles on a hundred coats and boots and the thick spectacles pushed up from the faces of the factory workers. And it made the bones in the walls appear to shift and dance until it was hard to tell what movement came from the living or the dead. It was the illusion, the magic of this place. Everyone was equal here, surrounded by so many reminders of death. The one thing everyone had in common. It should have made it haunting, but to Killian, this was a place people came to feel alive.

Emma looked around the room in obvious shock. He tried to see it through her eyes, tried to remember the first time he had been here. Sent to gather information about smuggled goods for the promise of much needed coin. He’d been only a boy and this place had seemed like something out of the novels he read. A place more wonderful and terrible than fiction.

“How are we ever going to find Robin?” Emma breathed hopelessly looking at the mass of people. Ever practical, his Emma. Maybe she didn’t see the romance of this place.

“Let’s go,” he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the crowd.

She pulled back uneasily, her eyes darting around. “Wait, what am I supposed to do?”

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Blend in,” he grinned, leading her deeper into the cavern.

He grabbed two glasses of bubbling green liquid from a tray, slipping the man a coin. He passed one to Emma. “Cheers, love.”

She eyed the cocktail warily. “What is this?”

“This is how we blend in.” He lifted his glass and she tentatively touched hers to his.

He tipped the glass back taking a long drink. The burning taste was familiar to him but Emma coughed lightly beside him before putting on a brave face and taking another sip.

They wove between the people, Killian keeping a sharp eye out for Robin. Emma stuck close by his side and he became aware of the way the others were looking at them. No, at Emma. A mix of surprise and curiosity. It seemed no clothes or green drinks would allow her to blend in. Her identity shone from her, an integral part that could not be buried or forgotten.

A few people gave her smiles, nods of thanks. Whether for her efforts that morning or what she had done to rid them of the Industrialists he didn’t know. But for whatever their reason they seemed generally pleased to have her among them. One of them. Not above them, uncaring or disconnected, but here offering a shy smile.

“You’re causing a bit of a stir,” a voice said beside them. Killian turned to see Robin leaning casually against the wall of the cavern.

“Robin,” he breathed in relief. “We need a word.”

Robin cast a glance over their shoulders at the others in the room. “Maybe somewhere a little quieter.”

He moved into one of the small alcoves, a narrow twist in the hewn wall of the cavern. Here too bones and skulls lined the walls. Small rivulets of water leaked down over the bones like phantom blood, and shadows clung thickly here tucked away from the torches.

“You know, I didn’t expect you to make good on this offer quite so quickly,” Robin said to Killian.

But Emma simply rushed forward pulling Robin into a tight hug. He looked a little surprised before tentatively returning her embrace.

“Thank you,” she said, pulling back. “For everything you did for us.”

“My lady,” Robin replied, bending his head in a small bow. “What’s a favor between friends?” he said, his eyes lifting to Killian.

“Actually, since you mentioned it,” Killian said. “We’re here for another favor.”

Robin smirked. “Sounds about right.” 

Killian glanced behind them but there was no one observing them. “It’s Ruby. I need you to pass her a message.”

Robin looked a little wary but he didn’t make any protest. 

“Peter has connections to Gold,” Killian said, not wasting any time. “I think they used to work together. He’s buying industrialist weapons. We are trying to secure Gold but even from within the prison he may make a move against the royal family. Peter knows about Ruby’s history. She’ll be in considerable danger while she’s there.”

Robin glanced at Emma beside him. “Peter has been working to acquire weapons for some time. I’ve been suspicious for a while that he plans to move away from petty smuggling and racketeering and use the Lost Boys as his personal army. I have a few allies within the gang, we are working to gather more information.”

“Will you watch out for her?” Killian asked him. “Will you get her out if this goes badly?”

He hated that he couldn’t be the one watching Ruby’s back. Trusting someone else with that job felt like being asked to wear someone else’s face, fundamentally wrong to his sense of self.

“Killian,” Robin said, pausing to wait until he met his gaze. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

He tried to let that promise comfort him.

Robin pulled out a worn bronze pocket watch. “It’s getting late,” he said. “We shouldn’t be seen leaving together. Stay here a while longer.” His gaze moved again to Emma. “People seem receptive to your presence. If you want to harness that political power you should show them you can understand them.”

“Does everything need to be about politics?” she asked with a frown.

Robin looked at her steadily. “Your life will be endless politics, Your Highness. And in politics, perception is everything.”

“No,” Emma said meeting his gaze. “In politics your allies are everything. I am very lucky in mine.”

Robin chuckled. “You’re already better at this than you think you are.”

With a small nod he pulled on his hat and ducked out of the alcove and disappeared into the crowd. Killian turned back to Emma.

“I suppose we could stay, let you get the whole experience,” he said nodding to the crowd.

Emma frowned. “I thought you didn’t want to be seen together.”

The words were like ice piercing him. He’d never meant for her to take his words from this morning that way.

“Emma, that’s not-” he broke off. “Robin will watch out for Ruby now. We might as well stop pretending. People have already seen you here, seen us together. Everyone already knows. I don’t want to act like this is something we need to hide.”

They moved from the alcove. The music had picked up and all the eyes that met his now had a shine from the effects of the brightly colored drinks. He could see Jefferson across the cavern with bottles of his illegally distilled wares, he’d probably make a good profit on a night like this. Tonight there was an infectious sense of celebration among everyone gathered. Nights like this were his favorite in the catacombs.

Taking her hand Killian guided Emma into the group of people dancing. If there was no need to try to conceal themselves any longer he wanted to make the most of this. Emma hesitated standing a little stiffly beside him as he came to a stop. He could see the uneasiness in her eyes.

He ran a hand down over the curve of her waist, as he’d wanted to all evening, the leather soft beneath his palm. He leaned a little closer to her. “It’s okay, Emma.”

“You trust these people?” she asked him quietly so they wouldn’t be overheard.

He glanced around, many of the faces ones he’d seen before, a few he could put names to. He’d squabbled and schemed alongside them for years, but trust? “No,” he told her before adding with a smirk, “but I’m here to keep you safe.”

He bent his head, his lips brushing the edge of her ear. He felt her take a shaking breath. “Give in to it,” he told her, pulling her into the sway of the beat of the music. _Give us a chance_ he begged her silently.

She relaxed into him, following his lead. His heart leapt at the feeling and he buried a smile into her soft hair.

Energy coursed around them, the drums beating a steady rhythm, vibrating up through the stone at their feet. It was like they had crawled beneath the skin of the city to find the beat of its heart. All around them the dancing was getting more uninhibited, freer. All the worries and fears that hung heavily in the streets were shed down here, as if they could all be reborn again to then return and face another day above.

This was not like the waltz he had taught her or they had danced at her parents’ ball in Glowerhaven. This was instinctual, sensual. The two of them moved together. He loved the feeling of her in his arms. His hands ran over her back as she lifted her arms twisting to the melody, her head falling back, her hair brushing over his knuckles.

This Emma, the one he had seen at the coast, was a favorite of his. The one who didn’t have the worries of the world on her shoulders. The one that let herself be vulnerable. He loved seeing past her thick armor. 

The crowd surrounded them, pulling at them like currents of the sea trying to pull them under. It would have been easy to be swept away. To get lost in the feeling as he had on numerous occasions in the past. To drink deeply from this dangerous draught.

But he followed her sparkling eyes, her hand tugging him gently. He needed little coaxing, it was always her, only her. And she was guiding him away from the tight press of the others. People moved aside for her as she cut a line through them. He noticed again the way they looked at her, admired her, but she had eyes only for him. She led them out of the crowd and the cavern up the sloping tunnels until the only sounds were the echo of their footsteps, the swish of her skirts, and pounding of his heart.

They broke the surface, the night air biting at them. He looked at Emma, the way her exhale swirled in the air. It was hours after the sun had set and the cold had settled heavily over the city in its absence. Goosebumps broke out over her bare shoulders and arms.

He shrugged out his jacket closing the distance between them, his arm coming around her, stepping into her space as he draped the thick material over her. She trembled next to him, his nose inches from her cheek. He could feel the heat of her skin, smell her perfume, feel her breath on his neck. His eyes found her lips, just parted, almost as if caught in a small gasp. He needed her.

“Killian,” she breathed so quietly he might have imagined it. A stray wish of his heart. But he could see that same desire burning in her gaze. There was no fear, no trace of uncertainty. 

She stepped forward, her hand against his chest and she pushed him back a step until he shored up against the brick wall. His surprise was instantly forgotten as her lips found his, hungry. He smiled as she nipped at his bottom lip. 

He bent down his hands sliding around her underneath his jacket gripping her tightly as he deepened the kiss. She melted, warm and pliant, into his embrace with a small moan that made his heart nearly stop. Her hands were everywhere, running through his hair, pressed into the back of his neck sending shivers down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

She pulled back a fraction breaking the kiss, her forehead against his.

“I don’t think we’ll make it back to the lake,” she said against his lips.

He breathed out a laugh nudging her lightly with his nose. “Eager, love?”

“I just mean it’s too cold,” she said with a breathless laugh. “We’ll freeze before we get halfway back.”

He smirked bending to place kisses along her jaw. “There’s ways to stay warm,” he said each word pressed into her skin.

“Killian,” she scolded.

“Don’t worry,” he told her. “I know a place where we can spend the night.”

She pulled back looking up at him. “Where?” 

With one last kiss he took her hand. “You keep forgetting, this is my city,” he said and as he led her away from the catacombs deeper into the city he melted into the shadows, skirting around places that were busy this time of night and carefully avoiding clear sight lines from the buildings around them. Falling back into old habits.

They crossed the main avenue and turned down an alley, ducking between broken slats of an old decrepit fence, weaving a path that had once been very familiar to him. Tonight had felt like reliving a memory from years before, except now Emma was here, something different from his memories. But she didn’t question him once, falling into step beside him, as if she had always been there.

When he came to a stop in front of weathered door tucked into the side of a leaning building he glanced over at her. 

He watched as her eyes moved over the chipped stones and dirty windows. He tried to imagine what she saw, a dingy slum, nothing like her palace by the lake. Creeping fears of inadequacy slithered from the corners of his mind.

“Was this your home?” she asked him.

He bit down on the inside of his lip. “Come on, with any luck it’ll at least be a little warmer inside.”

He pulled off his glove to pull out the lock picks that were tucked into the metal workings of his mechanical hand. With a practiced move he slid the picks into the lock and felt the pins catch, he turned the lock and with a firm shove of his shoulder the door opened.

He looked back to see her half-confused, half-impressed expression. “Ruby has the key,” he said with a shrug. He couldn’t have told her how much her answering laugh eased the pit in his stomach.

“Careful on the stairs,” he warned her as he moved inside the dark entryway, the only light was from a narrow window letting in a sliver of moonlight illuminate the uneven worn stairs.

The wood groaned with each of their footsteps. He paused at the top looking back just in time to see Emma’s foot catch on the last step knocking her off balance. She stumbled forward and he caught her, pulling her into him. She let out a shaking laugh as she righted herself.

“Sorry,” she said, still gripping him tightly, as close as they’d been when they were dancing, and kissing in the alley.

He leaned closer, brushing her hair back behind her ear and running his thumb down her cheek lingering at the soft skin just below her jaw.

He gazed at her, held in that moment framed in moonlight and dust. Ethereal. A single star in an otherwise cloudy night sky. She shouldn’t feel like she belonged here, he thought, but her eyes held that breathless look of wonder and warmth that felt more like home to him now than any four walls could.

“This way,” he said, reaching back to open the door behind him and holding it open for her. She stepped around him into the room beyond.

He moved by memory in the dark room to the fireplace on the far wall. He opened the chimney flue and swept the small pile of ashes and dust aside before stacking a few new logs and lighting them with the matches from the flint box in the crevice between stones in the hearth.

He turned back to Emma. She was standing in the center of the room he had lived in for years and he couldn’t quite decide how to react to the sight of her in his room. Emma, Princess Emma, the girl who had haunted him, an impossibility for the boy who had lived here. And yet here she was, her eyes moving around the room.

He lit a few of the candles scattered around the room, adding more warm light to the small room.

Emma dragged her fingers slowly over the surface of the desk, shifting a few of the papers there. And then she paused at the stack of books, a small smile tugging at her lips as she read the titles. A private memory. 

She looked over at him.

“I thought you were living at the castle,” Emma said, breaking the silence.

He shook his head. “Just conducted some business there.” He took a step toward her, closing a little of the distance between them. “If you can break into the castle, people tend to believe you can do whatever else you say.”

“Ah,” she said knowingly, “All part of the act.” She glanced around the room again. “But this, this is the real you.”

He leaned against the desk. 

“It isn’t much,” he said.

She stepped closer with deliberate slowness into the space between his knees, her eyes held his. “It is to me.”

Her words flooded through him, drowning out everything else. “I love you so much,” he told her.

A wide smile lit up her face. “I love you, too,” she said.

It was the first time she had said it in weeks. He knew she had been occupied with everything else, but now, her voice echoing in his ears, the words hanging between them, he didn’t know how he had survived a moment not hearing her say them.

“Say it again,” he begged her.

“I love you,” she said, no hesitation or uncertainty.

He couldn’t hold back any longer, his hands coming up to either side of her face as he kissed her, his fingers tangling into her hair. He had thought he knew what it was to love Emma, the weight and feel of it, but now as he kissed her he felt himself falling deeper, some depth there would never be any escaping from.

He pushed his jacket off her, his hands trailing down the length of her slim arms. Her hands worked clumsily at his waistcoat until with a shake of his shoulders he helped her remove it, tossing it onto the floor beside the jacket. 

Emma pulled back then, slowing them down. Her eyes moving over his face, her expression contemplative. Her fingers reached up pushing back the hair that had fallen over his forehead. They traced the edge of his brow, across his cheekbone. He held still under her featherlight touch. At last she brushed his lips, and he placed a small kiss to her fingertips. She smiled despite herself, her eyes flicking up to his in a playful scold before they dropped back to where her hand had moved to the line of his jaw.

Her lips parted absently, like she hadn’t noticed, as she moved down the column of his neck. He shivered beneath her fingers, her careful investigation driving him wild.

When she reached the collar of his shirt she slowly undid the buttons, carefully pulling open the fabric. She bent forward to place a kiss over each new inch of skin revealed. He wasn’t sure he was still breathing by the time she reached his navel, her fingers pulling the hem of his shirt from his waistband.

He captured her wrists pulling her hands away from him, unable to endure it any longer. He turned them setting her on the desk before bending her back onto it in his need to be closer to her. She seemed just as eager, reaching for him, their hands interlocking as he pushed them over her head. There was a crash as books and trinkets toppled over the edge.

“Killian!” she gasped. “All your things.”

He glanced at the mess of papers for a second before placing a kiss on the soft skin of her neck. Nothing in the world could have pulled him from his current task. “Everything I care about is right here,” he assured her.

He kissed down over her collarbones, down her sternum to the tops of her breasts, feeling her heart beating there. She arched beneath him and he kissed the leather edge of the corset.

“I love this,” he told her, leaning back to take in the sight of Emma spread out on the desk dressed like a tavern wench. “You look beautiful.”

She laughed. “Should have known you’d have a thing for leather given that ridiculous coat.”

His fingers moved over the corset, tracing the buckles, slowly opening them. “You don’t like it?” he asked, drawing little meaningless designs into the leather with his fingertips as he went.

“I’m actually a little worried about the damage it’s done to my spleen,” she huffed.

He chucked. “Well, we can’t have that,” he said before tugging it off of her. 

If he loved her in the leather fashion of the city, then he was hopeless for her bare skin. His hands skimmed up the sides of her ribs, his thumb dragging just beneath the swell of her breast. 

She sat up wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed him. He knew what she wanted without her needing to ask. Her body pressed against him, her skin warm, her heart pounding. He picked her up with an arm under her knees and carried her to the bed. Honestly he didn’t think the desk could handle what he wanted to do to her.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands finding his waist, tracing the lines of muscle there, following along the indent from hips. He bit his lip as his skin jumped, her gentle touch making him ticklish, not that he’d admit. He knew from her smile she knew, but she didn’t tease him. And this time he didn’t stop her as she loosened the laces on his trousers, pushing them off.

He leaned forward, moving to cover her body with his own, but she hooked her leg around his hip and rolled him under her. He laughed in surprise, looking up at her hovering over him. He loved when she used his own tricks against him.

She settled back onto his lap, her hands dragging down his chest as she held him still. Taking charge. Her expression was speculative, like an artist seeing a masterpiece within a blank canvas. In that moment he was ready to become whatever she wanted to make of him.

She bent down, her hair cascading down over him, strands of golden silk. Her kiss spread fire through his veins and he wanted to be consumed. His hands slid up her thighs bunching up the fabric of her skirt gripping her skin tightly as if it could anchor him to her. Everything in their lives seemed to be spinning further beyond their control, a thousand variables, a hundred reasons pulling them apart. He wanted this moment, this feeling, this night, just for them. And just let the rest of the world flow past. 

She gave a small gasp as he pulled her more firmly against him. And it was a wicked torture when she responded, rolling her hips. Emma was never one to be outdone, never backing down from a challenge. Her fingers moved quickly to undo her skirt, letting it fall over the edge of the mattress, leaving nothing at all between them.

“I need you,” she said breathlessly against his lips. It was the sweetest sound he could imagine.

His hands found her hips as she sank onto him. His breath escaping in a long shaking exhale. Her hands braced against his chest and shoulders as she began to move and he surrendered to the feeling. 


	5. When the Storm is Through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Atruthuniversally for your enthusiasm for this story and the beautiful comments. Thank you for making me smile with your words. I wish I had a happier chapter to dedicate to you, but they get even darker after this.

Emma woke to the feeling of pale sunlight blanketing over her and soft lips brushing against her bare back. She smiled into the pillow, squeezing her eyes shut.

Killian’s hand brushed her lower back as his nose traced up her spine. She felt his warm breath as he sighed against her, his forehead resting between her shoulder blades.

She squinted one eye open looking back over her shoulder to the messy black hair falling over her skin. “Killian?” she whispered.

“Shh,” he murmured into her skin, “If we don’t make a sound, maybe the world will forget to wake up.”

As if in answer to that thought there was a clatter on the street outside, the sound of hooves across the cobblestones. He groaned, letting out another sigh. 

He pressed a last kiss into her skin before pulling away. She half expected him to try to initiate another round of last night’s activities, but instead he said something even better.

“You want some breakfast?” he asked.

She rolled over, pulling the sheet with her, meeting his gaze. “Yes,” she said, the word almost a moan. “I’m starving.”

Suddenly she frowned and leaned up on her elbows, a thought striking her. “Wait, you haven’t been here in months. How can you have food? Are we going to have stale crackers and dry beans?”

His eyes skimmed over her like a touch, making her very aware of the thin sheet that was all that was between them. “Look who’s getting awfully entitled now that they’re a princess,” he said with mock indignation.

She reached out to swat at him.

He chuckled, dodging her hand. “Don’t worry, love, there’s a bakery up the street.”

It was such an incredibly normal sentence. She was struck again by how the city was familiar and natural to him. He lived here, knew the bakeries, knew the people. She had been given a country by birthright that felt foreign to her and she wanted so badly to see it through his eyes. The way he knew it.

“Any specific requests?” He asked her, an eyebrow arching up.

She bit her lip thinking. “Hmmm, cheese pastry.”

He leaned forward his fingers tangling in the sheet, it slipped an inch down her.

“Cheese pastry,” he repeated, placing a kiss on her abdomen over the sheet.

“And apple turnovers,” she said.

The sheet slipped another couple inches. “Mmmm,” he murmured, placing a kiss at the base of her ribs.

“Eggs and bacon.”

He shook his head against her as the sheet slipped over her breasts. “I’m not sure they have that.”

“Fresh strawberries.”

“It’s the middle of winter, love,” he said, the words a little muffled against her skin.

“Any kind of fruit.”

He placed a kiss over her heart. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The last kiss he placed on her lips. Her hands came up to hold him there, but too soon he pulled away.

“I’ll be right back,” he told her. “You won’t even miss me.”

She watched him move about the room pulling on clothes, a light blush colored her cheeks thinking of the reason they had gotten so scattered. She loved when he got desperate, his usual calm and collected demeanor gone, his skilled fingers hasty. 

Knowing exactly what she was doing she leaned back on the soft pillows, stretching languidly, the sheet still around her hips. She saw him glance back at her from the doorway, the way he froze, the words dying on his lips, his eyes wide. It seemed an effort for him to make himself turn and leave the room.

Emma bit her lip, breathing a laugh into her hand. She’d never get used to the way Killian made her beautiful.

She heard the front door downstairs close behind him. After a moment of quiet she looked around the room, morning chasing away the shadows in the corners.

She rolled off the bed and pulled on Killian’s shirt from the night before, the fabric soft and worn. Her bare legs were a little cold now that the fire had burned out. She sank back onto the soft mattress, comfortable. She wondered if they would spend a thousand winter days like this, just the two of them. 

_Or maybe not alone_ …the thought was so dangerous and one that she had never really entertained. She imagined a quiet home and the patter of small feet. A family like she had wished for every night, full of love, and always there. It wasn’t even something she truly wanted right now, with everything so turbulent around them, but maybe after things stabilized. It was a glimmer of a future she’d never fully allowed herself to imagine before. She’d never met anyone she had wanted to consider more with, but now...

As if her thoughts had conjured him, Killian pushed open the bedroom door with a couple paper bags in his hand. There was a dusting of snow on his jacket and melting into his hair. He caught sight of her on the bed in his shirt and his smile was like the morning sun, waking in her all the possibilities. And she felt herself fall just a little more in love with him.

He dumped their loot between them, rattling off all the treats he’d brought. She barely waited for him to finish before reaching for the bear claw in the center. The sweet pastry and honey made her eyes fall closed in bliss. Killian was making quick work of one of the cheese danishes. He chuckled at her expression as she licked thick sugar off her fingers, utterly content.

They ate through a frankly alarming amount of sweets and pastries. Teasing and talking about nothing. This was what lazy mornings should be like: muted sunshine, easy laughs, unmade bed, and crumbs on the sheets.

“The snow is starting to accumulate out there,” he told her. “That storm is picking up.”

She glanced toward the grey clouds out the window, the snow in the air.

“Maybe we’ll be snowed in,” she said in a teasing tone. “We’ll have to think of lots of ways to spend the time.” 

His answering frown surprised her, he didn’t rise to the bait.

She sat up straighter. “What is it?”

“As lovely as that sounds,” he said, pulling a piece of paper from his jacket. “There’s something else I have to do today. This was slipped under the door, it’s from Agatha.”

“What’s it say?”

“I need to go speak with her,” he said. He glanced from the paper to her. “You should stay here though.”

She crossed her arms. “Why? I can go with you.”

He shook his head. “Not this time, Emma.”

She held his gaze steadily. “You don’t need to protect me.”

“I know.”

“But?”

His expression almost begged her not to pick this fight. “But,” he said slowly, “There are dangerous people here who don’t support your family. We don’t know how to harness your magic, or even how powerful it is. We can’t act like you’re invincible when really it’s unpredictable. I'm not willing to risk anything we don’t have to.”

“You let me go with you last night,” she reminded him. “You didn’t care that they saw us together.”

He looked away. She wondered if he regretted it.

She didn’t want another fight, but if they never talked about what was bothering them then they’d only drift apart again.

She took a deep breath.

“I know you’re still upset that I went to the city with August, but I didn’t choose him over you. You were already gone and I can’t explain it, but there was something calling me to the castle. I needed to see it again for myself.”

“I’m not upset about August,” he said softly. “I was terrified when I heard you were with that witch from the Dark Palace.”

“Witch?” she repeated in surprise, it felt like cold water had been dumped over her. “Her name’s Regina and I think she might actually be able to help me.”

His hand rubbed over his face. “She’s dangerous. She’s a killer.”

“She understands magic.”

“Dark magic, Emma,” he said. “She understands _dark magic_. It poisons, corrupts, and destroys. I don’t trust her.”

His tone was so final. She picked at the hem of his shirt.

“Do you trust _me_?” she asked him, not looking at him.

“Yes,” he said at once. His eyes moved over her face. “Of course I trust you.”

“Then promise me we won’t judge her too quickly.”

He seemed to struggle against that request. She could tell it was warring against his instincts.

At last he nodded. A small gesture but one she knew he’d have never done if anyone else had asked. She knew exactly how much it meant.

“Thank you.”

“Will you do something for me too?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Let me do this alone today.”

She wanted to protest but this was how it was meant to work. Compromise. It felt like finally they weren’t keeping so many secrets from each other.

It was another step, hard won. She had to believe it would make them stronger.

He looked over at the worn clock on the mantel. “I should go,” he said. “Make yourself at home.”

She liked the way that sounded. _Home_.

“Like this?” she asked, pulling at the fabric of his shirt she was wearing. “Try all your things?”

He leaned forward. “Just like that,” he murmured against her lips.

His kiss was soft and sweet. An apology. A promise they’d talk more later. Do _many things_ later.

For a moment she almost asked him to stay. To forget the world outside. But he drew away and pulled his heavy coat back on and left.

She fell back onto the pillows staring at the ceiling, tracing the cracks in the old paint. She pondered the day stretching out before her, boredom creeping in, it almost felt like a luxury greater than gems. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a day all to herself when no one was expecting anything from her.

Her fingers drew lazy patterns into the sheets around her as she remembered their night. The feeling of dancing pressed against him, the wild energy of the catacombs. She had never dreamed such a place existed. The surprise of seeing Killian’s home. Butterflies fluttered within her again as she thought about his lips on her, the desire that flared even now as she thought about him under her, the firm grip of his fingers on her.

Suddenly it felt like an eternity until Killian would return. She couldn’t just lay in this bed missing him, wanting him. She had half a mind to race after him and ravage him in some secluded back street. But she had promised to let him go alone.

Determined to remain true to her word she explored the room a little more, trying to take in any new details about Killian, any new secrets she hadn’t learned yet. She loved the way it felt familiar, the home of an old friend. It felt like being back at the castle had, like she had found a part of herself she had forgotten, hadn’t realized was missing.

She walked over to the window in the corner. There was a small window seat beneath the sill. She climbed up folding herself into the spot looking out at the view. The way the thick snowflakes fell outside the glass.

She knew at once why Killian and Ruby had chosen this place, it hadn’t looked like much from the outside, but the view from here was priceless. The city spread out before her blanketed in a layer of white sparkling snow. The sloping roofs, small patches of the canals visible through the gaps between buildings, and up on the hill was the crumbling ruin of the castle. She paused staring at it.

She wondered how many times Killian had sat here looking up at its silhouette against the sky.

She wondered if he had ever thought of that night years ago. If he’d ever remembered her. If she had ever crossed his mind as he looked out over the city and the castle.

She thought of his words just now. He was right, she didn’t know how powerful her magic was. And she’d be a liability until she knew how to use it.

As relaxing as lying around reading Killian’s books and snacking on leftover dates and apples from breakfast sounded, as she looked out at the castle a new plan formed. Regina might be in the castle right now. So close. She didn’t know when she’d be in the city again. She doubted Regina made house calls. And she had no idea how long Killian would be, but she’d probably be gone and back before he returned.

With her mind made up, she gathered up her clothes from the floor. But she frowned as she held up the leather bodice, thinking of her bare arms last night. She glanced again at the thick snow falling. She had known what she was doing when she chose them, but despite the lovely effect these clothes had had on Killian, they weren’t really winter attire.

She glanced around his room for other options, her eyes landing on the dresser in the corner. She knew his clothes would be too big, the shirt she was wearing now was proof of that. It hung loose and baggy enough to slip right off of her. And while that seemed ideal for a day spent in bed with Killian, she wasn’t sure the streets of the city were ready for that kind of scandal.

But even if she looked hard enough, did she actually want to find another woman’s clothes in his things? She didn’t have illusions that she was the first, hell, you didn’t do the things he did without a little practice. But that didn’t mean she wanted to see the concrete proof, or that she’d even be willing to wear anything she found.

Her eyes moved to the open doorway and the hall beyond. _Ruby._ She’d forgotten.

Emma moved out to the landing and the narrow door at the other end. She almost knocked just to be polite, even knowing Ruby wasn’t inside. She gently turned the knob and stepped inside.

Ruby’s room was different from Killian’s. Tucked under the sloping roof, it felt like a cozy den. And while Killian had surrounded himself with sentimental items and books filled with adventures, Ruby’s room was filled with bits of luxury she had scraped together for herself. The plush pillows and comforter piled on her bed. The thick velvet curtains hanging beside the windows. A set of polished silver candlesticks. A stack of gold bangles on a table with bottles of perfume and rose water. Bits of makeup sat beside a mirror in a thick scrolling frame.

And Emma understood it immediately, Ruby had not been trying to emulate some life she had lost, she was proving to herself that she didn’t have to be the girl the world would try to see her as. She might have lost everything but she wouldn’t be held down forever. And she would get to decide everything she was and had.

Emma moved to the closet door that was propped open with a pair of black leather boots. The bedroom had only slightly prepared her for Ruby’s closet. The tiny room was filled to bursting with clothes in rich reds, purples, and blacks. Not the lace and silk and tulle that filled Emma’s armoire in the palace. This was thick wool, printed velvet, and leather. Warm and grounded but elegant. Emma smiled. Very like the girl they belonged to.

She found a blouse of soft cotton and lined leggings to wear under her skirt. She let her hands run lazily over the textures of Ruby’s many cloaks before at last settling on a thick black one. It wasn’t as much of a statement as the bright red cloak Ruby typically favored, but it was beautiful in its own way.

“Thanks, Ruby,” she whispered to the room as she took her finds back across the hall.

It took a few minutes to pull on all her layers. She laced her boots and braced for the cold outside these warm walls.

~*~

Ruby ran her hand along the rough walls as she wandered through the second story gallery of the factory. She was searching for secret corners and listening for bits of conversations between the other Lost Boys. Anything that would give her information about what they did here, what Peter’s plan was.

He'd found her early this morning, bringing her into his office, no whiskey this time. He'd asked her about the King and Queen, and Emma: their relationship, their history. Peter was poking at the royal family looking for weakness. Ruby told him about Emma's desire to be a part of her family, the way she was trying so hard to make them proud. And Emma was their source of hope. She was the glue holding them together.

"Give me something that would break her then _,"_ Peter had said, his words like a hiss.

Ruby had stared at him, wondering how a person got to such a place, where people were obstacles to be destroyed.

She knew the easy answer to his request: Killian. She knew Emma would do anything to protect him, she'd seen it first hand. But she'd sooner tear herself apart than give Peter any reason to hurt Killian or Emma. 

"Don't underestimate her," Ruby had told him seriously, meeting his eyes. "She's been fighting her whole life and she's got the strongest natural magic I've ever heard of."

He seemed to consider her words. "Then we don't fight her head on. Not without something equally powerful or impervious to magic."

He didn't elaborate, and he'd dismissed her soon after. Getting rid of her as soon as her usefulness ran out. She was just another pawn on his chessboard. A game too complicated for her to understand the scope of.

She ran through his words over and over. Trying to find their true meaning. _Something to break her. We won't fight her head on. Something impervious to magic._

Footsteps echoed on the steel floors behind her pulling her from her thoughts, and she glanced back to see Robin approaching. 

She leaned against a wide window looking out over the narrow winding streets and waited for him to catch up.

“There you are,” he said. “I heard Peter was looking for you this morning.”

Ruby lifted a brow. “Jealous?”

“I was just worried…” he looked around to be sure they were alone. “Everyone's on edge. I don't want anything to happen to you.”

She gave him a smile. Every moment she was aware of the fact she was in enemy territory. One misstep from danger. She was out of her depth and losing ground. No matter how much Peter appeared to trust her, confided in her, he never gave her any useful information. 

Having Robin here, a familiar face, was a huge comfort. They had to protect each other here. They'd promised as much last night when he'd given her Killian's message, warning them about Peter's history with Gold.

A flash of shadow down on the snowy street below the window caught her attention. She straightened and pushed back off the glass and leaned closer to the window, squinting through the falling snow.

“What is it?” Robin asked, moving to see what she’d seen.

“I thought I just saw… me,” Ruby said moving to the next window to get a better view.

“There,” she said pointing. “That’s definitely my cloak.”

“Your cloak?” he asked. “Were you robbed?”

She watched the figure in her cloak turn down the side street away from the factory disappearing from view. The pieces falling in place in Ruby’s mind as the figure's tracks were covered over with new snow.

“No,” she smirked. “It means Emma spent the night at our place.”

“Emma? Where’s she going?” Robin asked his eyes following the path the street took.

“You mean where’s she going _alone_ ,” Ruby said, already pulling on her gloves. “Let’s find out.”

“Ruby!” Robin said in a harsh whisper.

She turned back to him eyeing him up and down. “Are you not coming then?” she asked him.

He rolled his eyes with a long suffering sigh. “I guess someone’s got to make sure you don’t yourself killed.”

“Please,” she scoffed. “When have I ever gotten myself killed before?”

Robin didn’t seem to find that comment funny but she didn’t wait to see if he was following her. She slipped down the back stairs of the factory and out the back door. Robin was beside her even before the door had fully closed.

They found Emma easily enough. They knew shortcuts she didn’t. They strolled up the street, tailing her at a distance until she turned up the hill to the ruin of the castle.

“The castle?” Robin asked.

“She’s going to talk to the dark sorceress,” Ruby said, she should have figured it out sooner. She glanced back the way they had come wondering where the hell Killian was. He wouldn’t be thrilled with this plan. She wondered how Emma had slipped him.

“Bloody hell, why do I keep letting myself get into these situations for you lot?” Robin muttered beside her.

Ruby hurried up the slick cobblestones without answering. Honestly, she wasn’t sure why he stuck around either. Maybe he craved the adventure like she did.

She led the way through the broken battlements to the eastern wall and the small door tucked behind the tower. It was the entrance she always used with Killian. Hidden and long forgotten.

“This way,” she said to Robin as she slipped inside the cold, dark, silent castle.

Maybe she should have been ashamed that she knew the layout so well from countless times breaking in. A thousand petty crimes with Killian, sometimes to steal something to sell for food, sometimes for business, sometimes just to get out of the biting wind for a few hours. She spied the small room where she had cheated at poker with a few miscreants from South Bend, and she led Robin up the staircase she had slipped down when she was thirteen and twisted her ankle. Killian had carried her around for a week, and though he’d grumbled she knew he loved playing the chivalrous knight.

They passed the main hall, the ballroom still covered in ashes from the revolt, the half crumbling entryway. All around the place felt frozen in time, stuck in the moment the monarchy died day after day. This place was a tomb to memories and ideas from another time.

“Wait,” Robin said, grabbing her arm. “There’s something here.”

He pulled her into the old library. Unlike the rest of the abandoned castle, this room didn’t look as neglected. There were even a couple candles burning on the tables at the center of the room, a sure sign someone had been here recently.

Ruby studied the flame, the way the light flickered, the cone of black at the center. It was conjured false-fire. She remembered the smell of burning cloves and black center of the flames from when she’d seen it as a girl. A group of gypsies from the south performing in the square. Their brand of magic was as wild and wicked as they were, born from the dry air and desert rocks and burning sun from where they lived. Acrobats and fortune tellers, and fire eaters who could summon false-fire, flames dancing across their knuckles and lips. She remembered thinking they must have been descended from the dragons in her bedtime stories. They never returned after the revolt, driven off or smart enough to stay away, now they were just a story too.

Ruby looked carefully around for anyone who might be hiding among the stacks of heavy books covered in cobwebs. False-fire was a bit of dark magic and that meant the sorceress was here. She didn’t want any surprises, with only one door this room could easily become an ambush.

Robin shifted through some of the papers on the table, too new to have been from before the revolt.

“Help me look through this,” he said. “There may be something useful here.”

Ruby joined him and grabbed a stack of parchment and started skimming the endless writing for anything important.

“She’s been gathering information on anyone important in the city,” Robin murmured, shuffling through several pages.

Ruby glanced over. “What’d she write about me?”

Robin flipped over the last page. “Absolutely nothing.”

“That’s rude,” Ruby huffed.

Robin chuckled. “Well if you’ve got a pen I can write in some notes. Tall, brunette, smartass, spy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Perhaps leave that out while I’m on a top secret assignment. Don’t want to blow my cover.”

“And this is just an assignment?” he asked her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked him, putting her hands on her hips.

“I know you like the thrill of the chase. You don’t sit by and just discuss action at a council table.”

Ruby paused. The words surprised her, cutting right down to her truth. “Maybe I’ve changed. Things are changing.”

She thought of the royal banners moving through the streets, the empty airship docks, the way Killian looked at Emma.

“People don’t change that much. People are predictable,” he told her. “Mulan told me she found you at the Central Station. That was always your favorite spot.”

She jerked at Mulan’s name, awkwardly turning back and becoming fascinated with the papers in front of her. 

She felt Robin’s heavy gaze on her, dissecting her reaction. He’d always been a better poker player than she was.

“I had a feeling you two would get along,” he said. A loaded observation.

“Just making friends,” she shrugged.

“Sure, sure,” he said a smile in his tone. “You’ve always got a smooth answer for everything.”

“What do you know about her?” Ruby asked casually, turning over another sheet of parchment.

She saw his smirk but he didn’t tease her.

“She’s one of the good ones,” he said. “She appeared after Gold fell. Peter scooped up many people he felt would be assets.”

“You and her included,” she said.

He nodded.

“She’s got military experience that Peter wants. She fought in the Ogre Wars deep in the Enchanted Forest. They massacred her village. She’s seen real monsters, she’s not about to be taken for a fool by -”

“Wait,” Ruby said, cutting him off. “Look at this.”

She held out the bit of parchment that had caught her eye.

Robin studied the page. “Ingredients? Some kind of potion?”

“Valerian root, moonflower, nightshade,” Ruby said, pointing out a few items on the list. “It’s a sleeping potion. A curse.”

Ruby glanced again at the light of the false-fire. The dark magic core. The malice needed to create a sleeping curse.

“The sorceress could make this,” she told him.

“There’s more,” Robin said, pointing to the next piece of parchment. “She’s been monitoring the Royals’ movements. She knows all their plans.”

Ruby blew out a shaking breath. “She’s going to put the King and Queen under a sleeping curse,” she said.

Robin nodded. “She’s probably using Emma to get close to them.”

They both looked toward the door of the library to the rest of the castle where Emma was with the sorceress at that moment. She’d thought this could be an ambush, but it wasn’t a trap set for them.

~*~

“You’re not listening,” Regina scolded. “How am I supposed to teach someone who isn’t willing to learn?”

“I’m trying,” Emma said through gritted teeth as she stared at a small candle that would not light no matter how hard she tried. How could she have done so much powerful magic but not this?

“You need to focus, bend the magic to your will. Until now you’ve been throwing out random waves of magic, the power knocking over anything in its path, but some problems require precision. You lack control.

“Imagine what you are trying to achieve. See the flame, think about the light, the heat, the smell, the way it changes how the rest of the room looks. The ripples of every action.”

Emma stared at the candle but nothing happened.

Regina leaned back against the bookshelf on the wall. “You’re scared of your power aren’t you? You’re afraid to let any of it out, afraid of what you’ll unleash.”

“I’m not afraid,” Emma said stubbornly.

“Stop acting like a petulant child and listen,” she said. Emma shot her a glare. Regina continued, “Your fear will paralyze you. Magic cannot come from a place of fear. Fear makes you reactionary. Magic is not a reaction, it’s a decision. It has to come from a solid, grounded place within you. It has to come from an emotion more powerful than fear.”

Emma hated that there might be a little truth to it. She was afraid to open the lid on her power. When she tried to release the tight grip she had on the small place within her that she had pushed her magic down into, she saw the destroyed forest and she panicked.

“But you use dark magic,” Emma said. “Maybe it’s different?”

“It’s not.”

Emma looked at her flatly. “How would you know?”

“My magic used to be much like yours.”

Emma balked. “You had light magic?”

“Magic can evolve.”

Emma thought about the stories she knew. Merlin and Maleficent. Good wizards and Evil sorcerers. You were born with a proclivity for one or the other.

“But how can light magic just become dark?”

Regina walked over to one of the gas lamps. “Light and darkness are a balance.” She turned the knob and the flame sprang to life throwing out light so bright it was almost painful to look at. “The brighter the light, the darker the shadows it creates when it encounters an obstacle.” She held up her hand and a stark shadow appeared on the wall behind it. “Using light magic has the potential for great darkness. You must acknowledge the darkness too or you’ll never be able to truly control it, or understand the consequences.”

Regina sighed. “I wish I had known that at the beginning.”

Her words were heavy with a story Emma realized went much deeper than she’d thought. Everything about magic was more complicated and tangled than she’d imagined.

“What happened?”

Regina looked out the narrow window for a long moment. Emma could tell she was about to get to the secret she had sensed from the moment they met. Some truth that would explain everything.

“Emma, there are things you have to understand,” Regina said, and from anyone else that might have been condescending enough to ruffle her feathers but from Regina it just made her straighten in her chair, intent.

“Things were different, it was a different time,” Regina continued. “Magic was more prevalent, woven into our everyday lives. It wasn’t vilified. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t still mysterious or coveted. I discovered I had magic when I was twelve years old. I was riding in the back pasture when my horse spooked. She took off and tried to buck me off. I clung to her terrified. I was sure I was going to die. She galloped off blind with fear just running from some imagined danger. I couldn’t calm her or get her to slow down. We were headed right for the wall surrounding the pasture. A high stone wall with a deep ravine on the other side. I knew there was no way we would make the jump or survive the fall. I closed my eyes and tried with all my might to stop her, to save us. I felt weightless for a moment. I thought we had jumped and I waited for the impact. But it didn’t come. I opened my eyes and we were standing in the middle of the pasture. My horse was calmly grazing grass. It was like it had never happened. I might have even believed I had imagined the whole thing if my mother hadn’t seen it. She rushed out to me, pulled me down from the saddle, and held me tight.”

Emma knew all too well the fear and exhaustion that she had felt after using magic the first time. She knew the feeling of just wanting to be held and feel safe after it was over. Regina seemed to read her expression and she frowned.

“My mother was never a loving woman. She was practical, driven. As she held me I felt loved, the way a girl should feel in her mother’s arms. But then she pulled away with tears in her eyes and a smile on her lips. ‘We’re saved’ she said. I didn’t understand at the time. But my mother had seen an opportunity the moment my magic had saved me from disaster. She saw a way to elevate herself and crawl her way out of our humble life.”

“She wanted to use your magic for herself?” Emma asked.

Regina gave a slow shake of her head. “No, not for herself. She sold my magic to whoever would pay for it. I was trying to get used to the feeling of having magic and learn how to use it and my mother was demanding I use it for increasingly complex things, never worried about the cost or the strain.”

Emma knew exactly what Regina was describing; the restless feeling of new magic not quite harnessed or understood. At times it seemed to rage within her like a wildfire and at other times it slipped out of reach like water through her fingers. She tried to imagine going through all this with someone as ruthless as Regina’s mother pushing her past her limits.

“My mother made sure to spread the word of my abilities far and wide. It became more exaggeration than truth. People came to us claiming to have heard that I had done, things I had never dreamed of. Then my mother would look at me with that look and demand I make it so. Within a year we were summoned to the capital and the castle.”

“The castle?” Emma asked in surprise. “My family?”

Regina nodded. “King Leopold, your grandfather. He was very interested in what I could do. I wasn’t even allowed to be part of the conversation, my mother speaking for me, shuffling me from the room so I couldn’t contradict her. But whatever happened during those negotiations, the end result was my indenture to the king and my mother got an advantageous engagement to a wealthy lord. She didn’t even say goodbye before she left to go to his castle.”

“She left?”

“I never saw her again. I guess she got everything she wanted: position, wealth, connections. Well, perhaps until the revolt. Those early days of Industrialist control were not kind to the gentry. I never cared to find out what happened to her. She was never a mother to me.”

“What did King Leopold want your magic for?” Emma asked, already dreading the answer, but this was her family and she needed to know.

“It was small things at first. I would ensure favorable weather for the harvest and smooth sailing along the shipping routes. For a while that was enough to placate the king. He was delighted as the profits poured into his country and his coffers. It was a prosperous time. But it wasn’t long before the nearby kingdoms took notice. As Misthaven grew wealthy and powerful it also became a target. There were skirmishes on the borders and soon armies were massing against the King.”

Emma frowned at the similarity. The dark forces gathering against them, except this time it wasn’t neighboring kingdoms looking to get a share of the spoils, now it was vultures looking to pick clean the withered corpse of something that was once grand.

“Leopold was demanding I be a weapon to help him in his wars. We would travel to the front lines along the borders and I would tear out the hearts of rival commanders, pull air from the lungs of entire legions of infantry, and burn down camps to embers with alchemical fire. I left death and destruction in a smoldering wake behind us. In the end it helped us win the wars. The King was thrilled. But neither of us had anticipated what it would do to me and my magic.”

“Magic is a living thing. It has a soul that is both a part of you and something entirely separate. As I tapped into the darkness to bring about such evil and carnage it poisoned my magic and my heart. I could feel it blackening. At night the nightmares consumed me and during the day my hate haunted me, bleeding into my thoughts. I began to resent everything that had happened. I hated myself for letting this be done to me. I knew I couldn’t be a pawn any longer. I wasn’t going to be used for my magic.”

Emma looked up at Regina and felt like she was looking into a mirror. Used for her magic, Gold had it ripped from her and set to an evil use. For so long Emma had felt so completely alone but now hearing Regina’s story she felt like there might be someone who could truly understand. Someone who was like her.

“I ran away,” Regina continued. “I went to the deepest part of the forest and I built a castle. I poured every bit of malice and hurt into the very stones. I built a fortress to protect me from those who had wronged me. Even the forest around it twisted and grew thorns. Lakes turned to sulfur, boulders came alive as huge trolls and rotting corpses rose again as ogres. Eventually it crept through the forest to the villages at the edge of the wood. My knights guarded the shadows, crops turned to ash, the ogres flattened hovels. I didn’t stop it. I let them fear me. The Dark Palace they called it, a place fit for an evil sorceress. The one who could tear out hearts, the one who only brought death. If they wanted death I was more than willing to give it to any who came near my palace. Of course Leopold couldn’t have that kind of threat within his borders. But he also knew exactly how lethal he had crafted me to be.

“At first he sent letters, pleading for me to leave his lands. He offered passage across the sea. A chance to start over in a fleet of ships filled with gold. He didn’t understand, I didn’t want to leave. I had everything I wanted: my free will, my powers, and my revenge. The longer Leopold did nothing against me the more he looked weak, the more his power eroded.

“Eventually he sent his army. They breached the walls, roaches scurrying through my halls. Leopold found me in the throne room. I fought him and his best fighters, one by one they fell. Until at last Leopold took up the sword of one his generals stood his ground and demanded a truce. He said he’d cut out the heart of a deer from the wood and tell his people it was my heart. That I was vanquished. In return I would be left in peace to live a quieter existence within my palace. A shadow only, not a danger to him and his people. I agreed.

“I stayed in that palace until I knew he was dead. Until I heard his beloved daughter had been thrown off her throne, their kingdom dashed. I’m ashamed now at the joy I felt at that news. Because it turned out the man who took control was even worse. Gold soon banished magic and hunted down anyone rumored to have it. He came to me in my palace. Looking for a way to harness magic, to use it to fuel his infernal machines, trinkets, and inventions. I turned him down, but I knew he’d be back, and next time he wouldn’t ask. I fled my home, the only thing I still cared about. In the end everything I had sacrificed along the way meant nothing and I lost it all again.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said softly. She knew it wasn’t enough. She knew her apology wasn’t the one Regina had wanted and that it wouldn’t do any good at this point. But the words slipped from her.

“Emma,” Regina said. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel sorry for me. I’m telling you so you will understand. This country is fragile. It’s unstable, now more than ever. If it falls into the wrong hands none of us will be safe. You and I least of all.”

“The wrong hands?” Emma said.

“Anyone without magic. We all saw what happened with the Industrialists. They don’t understand us, and eventually they all come to fear us. We are too different from them. Too powerful.”

“My parents aren’t like that,” Emma said. “They know I have magic. They love me. They aren’t anything like the Industrialists.”

Regina gave her a skeptical look. “They’re so different from the Industrialists? They wouldn’t misuse people with magic?” she asked. “Not like... your grandfather?”

Emma frowned. “That wasn’t them.”

“We won’t ever be protected if someone without magic is in charge.”

“What are you saying?” Emma asked. “That my parents shouldn’t rule?”

“I’m saying they have had their chance, and the people made their opinions quite clear about their leadership.”

Emma’s thoughts raced. If Regina wanted someone with magic to rule, did that mean she wanted Emma to rule?

She watched as Regina poured herself a glass of wine. Regina had never seemed to think all that highly of her, but maybe she had been mistaken. She couldn’t help but be flattered. And Regina would be a powerful ally to have on her side.

Feeling bolstered, Emma looked at the candle on the table again. A flame suddenly lit the wick sending flickering shadows dancing across the table. Emma beamed.

“See,” Regina said, looking smug. “You need to have confidence in yourself alone. Don’t listen to the other voices and doubts within you.”

_You can do it by yourself. Don’t listen to anything else._

She knew what Regina wanted now. Knew why she wanted it and everything she had been through. She would help her get it.

It was unforgivable what her family had done in the name of power. And more than anything she needed to know if her parents, her mother, had known. She had to know exactly what kind of world her parents thought they had come back to restore.

“I need to go,” she said, grabbing the black cloak from where she’d laid it by the fire.

“The snow will be thick on the roads outside the city,” Regina said looking out the window.

Emma wondered if Regina would insist she stay at the castle. But instead she said, “Take a horse from the stable. I have a few.”

Emma nodded her thanks and hurried down the dark hallways. Stray snowflakes drifted in through broken windows and danced across the stone and marble floors as she went past.

She found the stables easily. Old memories guiding her. She quickly saddled up a black mare in one of the stalls and snapped the reins cantering out of the castle grounds, guiding the horse around the drifting snow in the streets and out of the city. 

~*~

Regina took a sip of wine dark as blood. The castle echoed with silence since Emma had left. The air felt heavy with tension like clouds gathering and pressing down around her. The storm outside rattled against the windows. The wind howling through the ruined castle walls.

She turned to the heavy gilt mirror on the wall. The image that faced her was one she knew well, her eyes stared darkly back and she could sense her magic like a shadow beside her. A dark partner to her reflection.

“That could have gone worse,” she murmured to the glass.

 _The first part of any trap is always the least certain_. She heard in response, a whisper like cold wind. _All prey will consider their options before temptation wins out._

The candle flickered on the table, guttering out. She wondered distantly when the voice so deep it could have only come from the darkest depths of her mind had started to seem like sound advice.

“Her faith in her family will be hard to completely break.”

_It’s already begun even before you, seeds planted years ago. You cannot unroot abandonment._

“Perhaps,” she said, swirling the liquid in her cup, watching the wine streak down the sides. “But she still holds on to hope.”

She felt more than saw the shadow sneer back at her. _If the darkness is deep enough it can devour any light._

For a moment she wondered if that was referring to Emma, or her.

She drained her cup, the face in the mirror started to blur, the edges growing dimmer. She couldn’t quite tell now where she stopped and the shadows started. She didn’t mind the haziness, not like she used to. In the end it was always easier to give in. Darkness won only when you stopped fighting it, it was like sleep that way.

And for years she’d been so damn tired.

~*~

Emma passed off Regina’s horse to the farrier at the lakeside palace. Barely pausing on her way toward the wide front doors. She’d made good time, she knew she could catch her parents before they retired for the night.

She shrugged off Ruby’s cloak and left it beside the door.

“You’re back,” a voice said behind her. She spun to see her mother and father waiting for her.

“Where were you?” her mother asked.

Emma looked at them, the judgement clear on their faces. She’d always just be a child to them. But she’d learned long ago how to survive without a parent. Regina was right, she could do just fine on her own.

“I’m back now,” she told them, skirting the question.

“You shouldn’t be alone in the city,” her father said.

She looked between them. The worry on their faces had an edge of something darker.

“I wasn’t alone,” she assured them.

They looked over her shoulder as if expecting someone to follow in after her.

“Where’s Killian?” her mother asked.

Guilt flooded through her. _Killian_. She’d been in such a rush to know the truth for herself she’d forgotten she was meant to be waiting for him.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t with Killian.”

They exchanged a loaded glance. For a moment she was sure they somehow knew the truth.

“Who were you with?”

“Regina,” Emma said, challenging her parents to berate her. But they stayed perfectly still, silent. Their lack of reaction confirmed her fears.

Emma shifted her weight, narrowing her eyes. “What do you know about her?”

It was a test, but she had to know.

“She’s dangerous and manipulative,” her mother said.

“Yeah, I’ve been told.”

Her parents were watching her so carefully. Warily. They both seemed nervous about what she might say next. 

Magic crackled through her, desperate to give real power to her anger. She took a deep breath, remembering to find the part inside her that would keep her from losing control. What would they think if they knew it was Regina helping her right that moment not to detonate.

“Emma-” her father started.

She didn’t want to hear excuses or careful diplomatic explanations. She wanted the truth.

“Did you know?” she asked them.

“Know what?”

She met her mother’s gaze. “Did you know what your father did to Regina? Do you know what he did to his enemies? What he did to keep his power? Is that the legacy you came back to continue?”

Her mother’s face drained of color. It was answer enough.

Emma felt tears in her eyes. Her family had lied to her. Lied to everyone. They were worse than the monsters they claimed they’d saved everyone from.

“Emma, you need to understand that-”

“No.” Emma shook her head, holding up her hand to stop them. She didn’t want to listen to what they had to say. “I understand perfectly.”

With that she turned, leaving them behind and ran for her room. She wanted to be alone.

Emma sank down onto the mattress, her head falling into her hands. She couldn’t stop the sobs that tore from her. Everything she held within her for so long was finally escaping.

She cried for Regina and she cried for herself. For everything a person could lose. For the people who had known and still hadn’t saved them. She cried until she didn’t have any more tears, and exhausted, with nothing left within her to fight, she fell asleep.


End file.
